


Never Look Back

by ead13



Series: Carta Thug, Surfacer Trash, and/or Andraste's Herald [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cadash had a horrible upbringing, Chapter 15 has Cullen for the fangirls lol (sobs at harsh reality), F/M, Fixing relationship, PTSD/anxiety/depression (I'm not a hundred percent sure what I'd label his condition), Past Abuse, Rogue Cadash - Freeform, all the things that never happened in game with these two, companion reactions post...you know, cursing and non-explicit smut ahoy, my Inquisition otp, not gonna glorify the Carta, pretty much everybody else - Freeform, such broken but beautiful people, why do I love the unpopular ships?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 13:21:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 65,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12771948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ead13/pseuds/ead13
Summary: With demons pouring from the sky, an ex-Carta agent and a disgraced army captain trying to leave their old lives behind find themselves drawn together as they fight the threat. Keeping secrets is a hard habit to break, and when the truth comes to light, she'll have to decide if the bond they had was real or one more lie.





	1. A Chance Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Half the fun of doing this is to elaborate on my OTI (One True Inquisitor), Malika Cadash, and play with how her Carta upbringing affects her decisions as the Inquisitor and her relationships with others. The other half of the fun is to fill in more blanks on Blackwall's character. I feel like people either sympathize with him or give him no mercy, and I have always loved him despite it all. I think it is the way I fill in those blanks that leads me to do so. I suppose my goal is to make you more sympathetic towards him if you are not initially inclined to feel that way. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy the development I try and give these two!

Her eyes darted back and forth along the lakeshore, searching for the crimson blooms on reed-like stalks that would help Adan improve her Antivan Fire grenades. She had spotted the Blood Lotus while coming through the area looking for a campsite two weeks ago, but only now did she have time to comb the area for resources, having just returned from a failed trip to Val Royeaux to plead the Inquisition's case to the Chantry. If there was one thing her life in the Carta had taught her, it was to be prepared and secure every resource available; she stuck to it even as her companions trailed behind looking truly bored and skeptical. Cassandra and Varric were ones for action and found the whole thing tedious, while if it had nothing to do with magic or the Fade, Solas was hardly interested.

As she rounded the southern shore, a clamoring noise reached her ear, the sound of metal on wood, like a skirmish. On edge immediately, she ducked down behind a tree, causing her companions to follow suit. Malika saw a smile creep across Cassandra's face, and it was noted with amusement that the Seeker was eager for some confrontation. Still, it would be preferable to avoid unnecessary bloodshed if possible. She peered around the trunk of the tree, spying a group of armed men outside a cabin. Upon closer inspection, she noted it was an older warrior leading a group of young men through shield blocking motions, which they clumsily imitated. Clearly, they were novices being trained. Templars? They certainly weren't mages… "They will make this a fight, not us…" she heard the leader's voice carry to where she hid. Preparing them for an upcoming fight perhaps? She looked back and motioned for her companions to stay back while she edged her way through the undergrowth slowly, hoping to get a closer look before jumping into the situation.

She paused when she was about twenty yards away, unable to get any closer. The younger men were not dressed as warriors, and their weapons were rudimentary at best. They appeared more like farmers than soldiers, and not one of them moved with the killing edge of a military man. All the same, the leader before them barked orders as if they were, telling them to close the gaps of their formation. His voice was rough, and it seemed well suited for the burly, bearded man that he was. "Remember how to carry your shields; you're not hiding, you're holding, otherwise it's useless!" He began to pace, inspecting his charges with a critical eye. As he moved in her direction, she was finally able to get a good look at the emblem on his armor. It was not, as she suspected, the sword and laurels of a Templar, but rather the shield and griffons of the Grey Wardens. She had somehow stumbled upon the elusive figure Leliana was having trouble tracking down!

Still, Leliana had warned her that his order might have something to do with the hole in the sky given their mysterious disappearance, so she couldn't rush in assuming his intentions. Those recruits may not be much, but he looked like he might be formidable if he chose to attack. She motioned for her companions to come closer, and she emerged from hiding giving a clear warning. "Blackwall? Warden Blackwall?"

His eyes flashed and even quicker than she had anticipated he strode to where she was standing. "You're not…how do you know my name?" Before she could answer, he stiffened, and turned slightly, cocking his head as if to hear something more clearly. "Who's there?" She followed his gaze only to have his shield whip in front of her head, taking an arrow that would have killed her instantly. It took a lot to phase her, but Malika was at a complete loss as she stared at the intensely focused man at her side. Even as she stood there, a small group of bandits gave a battle cry while erupting from a growth of trees across the way. "That's it. Help or get out!" he ordered gruffly, lowering his shield. "We're dealing with these idiots first." He turned to his rag-tag troupe. "Conscripts, here they come!" With a wave of his sword, he charged ahead into the fray, leaving the young men to nervously follow. Shaking out of her daze as her friends finally arrived at her side, she pulled out her daggers and set to work dispatching the threat.

"I wasn't here to fight," the older man insisted, meeting a blow of the enemy's sword with his shield and turning it aside. "Stop and think!"

"Too late for that!" the bandit roared. "You know how this ends!"

Perhaps the bandit himself did not, or else he would have taken the soldier's mercy. Instead, he found a blade ripping through the weak spot of his armor and killing him instantly. Had she not been so focused on herself, she would have admired the practiced, ruthless efficiency of his technique…

The recruits were at least defending themselves adequately with their shields, though they were not quite adept (or inclined) to slay their attackers with the axes they wielded. Instead, Malika and her crew provided the muscle. Her first target was that damn archer that nearly claimed her life. She was pissed she had been made to look so foolish in front of the warden she needed to cooperate. Sneaking up behind him in the chaos of battle, she quickly dispatched of him with a fierce backstab through a chink in the armor. Then, she dodged her way to his companion, who met a similar end though face to face. How she did enjoy the look of surprise all over their features as they died underestimating her! Her confidence and rhythm came surging back after the awkward beginning to the battle, but it was too late. Before she could help the warden finish off the blighters and earn his respect back after needing to be saved by him, he did so himself with a decisive slice. Noting that every enemy was slain, he planted his blade in the ground and crouched down in front of his last victim. "Sorry bastards," he muttered grimly.

Then, he turned to look not at her and her companions, but at the recruits. "Good work, conscripts. Even if this shouldn't have happened, they could have…well, thieves are made, not born." He gestured at their corpses littering the ground. "Take back what they stole. Go back to your families. You saved yourselves." The young men looked at each other and nodded, leaving their mentor to reclaim what was theirs. Most offered the courtesy of a "Thanks, Warden," under their breaths as they shuffled off, as if trying to avoid drawing attention from the powerful strangers that bailed them out of a real fight. He simply grunted in reply.

With them taken care of, the warden finally addressed the dwarf before him. "You're no farmer. How do you know my name? Who are you?" He eyed her suspiciously.

She shrugged. "That depends on who you ask." Malika Cadash. The Herald of Andraste. A Carta thug. Could be any of those or more, really.

"I'm asking YOU," he said tersely, making her blink. Jeez, lighten up! These warrior types were always so straight-laced…

She cleared her throat, brushing aside the impatient remark. "Cadash. I'm with the Inquisition. I'm investigating whether the Wardens' disappearance has anything to do with the murder of the Divine."  
Upon hearing the news, he began to pace, agitated. "Maker's balls, the Wardens and the Divine. They can't…no. You're asking, so you don't really know. First off, I didn't know we disappeared. But we do that. No more Blight, job done, Wardens are the first thing forgotten. But one thing I'll tell you: no Warden killed the Divine. Our purpose isn't political."

That comment made her internally roll her eyes. Everyone knew that the Grey Wardens had been right in the thick of Ferelden politics during the blight, with the Hero of Ferelden essentially deciding who would be the ruler of both Orzammar and Ferelden itself. Some of it had to do with Warden Alistair being a king's bastard son, but that didn't cover all of the strings that were pulled in the interest of stopping the Blight. Such a blatantly inaccurate statement coming from what looked to be an experienced veteran seemed… strangely naïve. Still, she did her best to ignore her skepticism. "So where are the others?" she pressed.

"I haven't seen any others in months. I travel alone. Recruiting. Not much interest 'cause the archdemon is a decade dead. And no need to conscript 'cause there's no Blight coming. Treaties give Wardens the right to take what we need, who we need. These idiots forced the fight, so I conscripted their victims." He gestured at the bodies spilling blood on the ground. "They had to do what I said, so I told them to stand. Next time they won't need me." He closed his eyes. "Grey Wardens can inspire, make you better than you think you are."

Malika sighed. This was getting nowhere. Did he truly know nothing, or was he just playing? There was only one thing to do in a situation like this, a trick she had used countless times in her Carta career: she was going to have to flirt. Clearing her throat, she brought out her most coy voice. "Well, thank you, Warden Blackwall, but now where does that leave us?" As subtly as possible, she stuck out her bottom lip in a pout and began to walk away with a slow swing of her hips. Her friends did not hide their stares of disbelief, which was making the whole act rather difficult to maintain, but she was still a pro. She didn't get to survive in such a rough environment by being mediocre… Besides, the man had been on his own for a while, undoubtedly. Unless he did not swing that way or was invoking the Maker's balls to compensate for his own lack thereof, he'd be an easy target for this sort of thing. Three…two…one…

"Inquisition. Agent, did you say?" She turned to look at him behind her, pretending to be surprised when he called her. "Hold a moment. The Divine is dead and the sky is torn. Events like these, thinking we're absent is almost as bad as thinking we're involved." He paused, and she raised an eyebrow to show her interest. "To put things right, maybe you need a Warden. Maybe you need me." Hook, line and sinker.

Still, she didn't want to come across as TOO desperate. "That's nice, but what can one Grey Warden do?"

His response surprised her, both from the measured, resolute tone and the vulgarity. "Save the fucking world if pressed."

Well, no more playing around necessary. This was going to be interesting… "Warden Blackwall, the Inquisition accepts your offer," she smiled broadly.

"Good to hear. We both need to know what's going on. And perhaps I've been keeping to myself for too long. This Warden walks with the Inquisition. Allow me a few moments to gather my things and I will be ready to follow."

When he walked off to pack up, Cadash finally acknowledged the confused trio behind her. "Sorry about all that. Leliana wanted me to check into missing Grey Wardens just in case, and one thing just led to another, and…ta-da! New agent for the Inquisition. Good news, right?"

"I'll ignore the fact that Leliana got you to do her bidding when I told her we weren't interested," Casandra frowned, clearly vexed that the Left Hand of the Divine went behind the back of the Right. "I suppose you just HAPPENED to stumble upon him."

Malika folded her arms. "In fact I did. ANDRASTE must have wished it," she replied with a cheeky smirk. Varric had to snicker at the response only to be knocked upside the head by the devout Seeker.

"Well, we need all the help we can get, and a Grey Warden is a powerful ally. They have much battle experience, especially being within ten years of the last Blight, and as he mentioned, the treaties are very powerful."

"I wonder what sort of man he is," Solas pondered, watching him from a distance as he began shoving his few belongings in an old sack. "Wardens can be a very colorful group. Most have a story, and they are rarely pleasant. I have observed many of their dreams."

"Colorful is good. We need to liven the place up in Haven," Varric approved heartily. "I'll bet that bruiser could get into some very interesting drinking contests… Maybe some good stories that would make those Chantry folks blush…

Malika just shrugged, bending down to inspect the bandits closely. "Before he's done, let's make sure those farmers didn't leave anything valuable on these sods. I'd hate to have anything go to waste." Varric nodded and bent down to assist.

As was often the case, he was the only one to help with looting the corpses. Casandra never felt comfortable taking from the deceased, no matter if they were victims or the ones dealing the death to others. She imagined it had something to do with the Nevarran obsession with preserving the dead, which Cassandra had explained to her once. Her uncle was one of the men in charge of the necropolis after all, and he essentially raised her. As for Solas, it simply did not appeal to him to dirty his hands. At first their refusal to help had greatly annoyed her; being the resourceful woman she was and seeing as their organization needed EVERY sort of resource it could muster, it seemed ridiculous not to permanently borrow from those who would not miss it. Besides, being from the Carta, she was unaccustomed to giving corpses any sort of reverence, as they tended to pile up quickly in certain areas of the gang. Still, time with her companions had tempered her somewhat. She no longer took any armor from them as a way to respect them and her friends' wishes. Crafting materials, money, and any correspondence were still fair game as long as it didn't take too thorough of a search.

They were not finding much left behind on the picked-over thugs, but there was one letter she managed to purloin once she glanced briefly at the first lines to ensure it was no shopping list. She shoved it into her pocket to read later. Perhaps it would interest Leliana if there was good information. Then, she sensed him approach and turned from her work. "Is that everything?"

"Yes, we Wardens travel light. As long as you have a well-maintained weapon and a good set of armor, everything else comes and goes." He shifted the sack on his shoulder. "So, where are we headed?"

"Four is the optimal travel group," Cassandra pointed out. "But I have business back in Haven I could be attending to, namely trying to get to the bottom of the odd behavior of Lord Seeker Lucius. Why don't you fill the warrior's spot for the time being? I'll leave it up to our Herald where you will go next. Does that seem agreeable?"

They all nodded. Malika was especially eager to see this Warden in action, so she was glad Cassandra suggested he sub into the party. She had to figure him out. She had seen men like him before, difficult to read. They were always hiding something. It would be a simple matter of uncovering those stories Varric and Solas knew to be there. This was something she had plenty of experience doing given her previous line of work, and it would be a fun game to play while she dealt with Inquisition chores.

As Cassandra walked off towards the Crossing, Blackwall asked again. "So, HERALD, where do you intend to go?"

"To Redcliffe," she said simply. "We received an invitation and truthfully, Cassandra might not enjoy it if we take the person up on it. Now would be a good time to…assess ALL our options." The mage and rogue nodded in agreement at her logic.

"Very well, lead on."  
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Later that evening, while she was on lookout and the others were asleep, she pulled out the charred piece of paper stuffed in her pocket. Much of the ink was smudged, but a few sentences were legible.  
-You can die pretending you'll earn back your soldier's honor, or you can do something with the skills that son of a bitch taught you. Spend some time with my boys. No one will know who you are in Ferelden, and it's not so bad. A little bit of smuggling, a little bit of extortion. You'll get used to it. –

So the bandits had intended to recruit the farmers into their ranks? Those farmers who had been stripped of their honor when they were robbed and forced to run would use what Blackwall taught them to help the bandits and earn back some of what was lost? The thought infuriated her. It was bad enough to be born into such a group, but to drag people from the outside into that dark world… Smuggling and extortion were only the beginning, and it got worse. She knew that from experience. Part of her wanted to crumple up the note and throw it into the fire. Those bastards got what was coming to them at the receiving end of Blackwall's sword, and she was perhaps just as grateful to him for what he did in defending those men as the men were themselves.

Still, one thing did not click, and it bothered her. The farmers WERE from Ferelden, so why did the note claim they would not be recognized in Ferelden? When it came to putting pieces together, Malika was admittedly obsessive. One fact out of place meant her knowledge was incomplete, so rather than destroy the note she folded it back up and placed it in her bag. This would have to be investigated further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, funny thing about that note. Even after playing a second time I STILL did not understand who it was referring to. Finally figured it out though, so will Malika. Much later.


	2. Flowers for Senna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wondered how Cadash and Blackwall hit it off. He's obviously withdrawn in order to protect himself from discovery, and she's been raised to be skeptical of everyone's motivations. I happened to do the quest "Flowers for Senna" with him in my party and noticed that he approved. I thought this would be a good starting point for several topics of conversation that would get the ball rolling. Some of the comments come from conversations you can have with him back in Haven, but they made more sense for me here.

"I'm going scavenging, I'll be back soon," she waved to her companions nonchalantly. "We need to find some Crystal Bell for the healer at the Crossroads, and I heard it grows along the rocky slopes around here."

"Wait, don't you think it unwise to go alone?" Solas warned, brow furrowing with annoyance at her impetuous declaration. "The woods here are filled with predators and bandits."

She rolled her eyes. "I'll be sneaky, that's my specialty. Besides, I know how you and Varric love to gather plants. Just stay here and occupy yourselves, I won't be gone long."

Blackwall overheard the conversation from his spot in front of the tents where he was sharpening his blade. He got up and approached them, sheathing the weapon. "I can go with you. I've been in this area for a while now, might be able to help you look. And, you know, keep you safe from the bears."

She raised an eyebrow. "You mean keep the bears safe from me. If that poor hunter's note was telling the truth, it would seem those claws are worth quite a bit…"

He chuckled. "That too, I suppose."

Solas frowned, looking confused. "Tell me you are joking and that you are NOT going to try and take on a bear with just the two of you…"

"YES!" they both responded simultaneously in exasperation, as if their shared sarcastic humor should be obvious.

The elf shook his head. "Can you blame me for asking? You are a bit of a wildcard, Cadash."

She grinned. "That is true, I'll give you that." Then, she turned to the Warden. "You really don't mind coming with? That would be a first..."

"Absolutely not. Let's go. I think we'd have the most luck if we head east from here." He began to lead the way and she followed, shrugging.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Five minutes later they were scaling a steep hill. He was still in front, so she was able to watch him as he powered ahead. Truthfully, she was amazed at how he was handling the terrain. When he wasn't looking during the past week, she would sometimes analyze his face and try to guess how old this senior warden was. Late forties, early fifties perhaps? Of course the hard life of a warden might have aged him prematurely, it was hard to tell. If that was true, these inclines should be wreaking havoc on his knees… Then again, the Grey Wardens didn't get to be the most feared warriors in the land by suffering from achy joints, so maybe they only recruited the really tough ones. Or gave them some kind of secret powers. No one really knew the story behind the Wardens, and she was beginning to see why. It was clear that based on the group's interactions with this particular Warden (or lack thereof) no secrets were going to be revealed from his lips. She'd given it a week, but she was nearing the end of her patience. Her little game of information gathering was going nowhere. Perhaps it was time to start sneaking peaks into his belongings during night watch…

Her musings were interrupted as they reached the top of the incline, pausing to rest, breathing a bit heavier than either would like to admit. No one said a word. Given the exertion, there had been no need for conversation, and that was okay. She still didn't know how to address him, and from what she observed he hadn't been exaggerating when he said he traveled alone and it suited him. Varric being Varric had tried to get some good stories out of him with little success; the man did NOT talk about himself and at best turned questions back onto the others in the group. It wasn't just Warden business that he withheld either, but ANYTHING personal. He wasn't rude, despite his stand-offish nature; in all his dealings he remained courteous and helpful. Still, he mostly sat and "brooded" in Varric's words, or took inventory, or practiced sword techniques. Once, she caught him carving something while he was up for late night watch. Part of her wondered if he would ever be able to adjust back to being around people.

His eyes scanned the other side of the hill while hers scanned across the top of it, refocusing on the task at hand. She squinted; there was something a few yards away that was not part of the natural flora or fauna. It appeared to be dirtied white marble slabs standing vertical on a stone base, half-swallowed in vegetation. Silently, she approached it. Squatting down she pulled away the vines and ripped out the weeds that grew over the stones. There was writing, faint, but also in a language she could not understand. It looked like elven script. Something clicked. She pulled out her pack and dug around until she found a scrap of paper with a crudely drawn map. Yes, this was the area. This was probably the place the elderly elf had directed her to. Shoving the map back in the bag, she pulled out the bundle of dried flowers she had been holding onto for the last three days. They were a bit bent out of shape, but mostly intact. She set them down on the grave and closed her eyes, sending a prayer to whoever would listen to honor the wishes of the old man.

When she opened her eyes, she noticed a shadow falling over her. Quickly looking up, she saw that it was her companion, Blackwall, blocking out the sun with his hulking frame. "What did you find?" he inquired, squatting down so he was at her level. His fingers traced the script on the stones. "Looks like a grave of some kind. Did you know the person it belongs to?"

All of a sudden, he was asking questions! She blinked. "I don't, no. Someone back in Redcliffe asked me to deliver some flowers to this grave, though. I said I would if I came across it on our travels."

This confession of charity surprised him, though he did his best not to show it. Instead he grunted in approval. "The Herald of Andraste, one of the leaders of the new Inquisition, taking time to do a small simple favor for someone with nothing to repay her. You're…not what I expected."

She wasn't sure how to take that, so she used her fallback option: sarcasm. "What did you expect, someone…taller?"

She didn't predict this remark would make him blush the way he was currently under that great beard of his. "Well, yes, to be honest I didn't expect you to be a dwarf. But that was stupid of me. About as stupid as thinking a dwarf wouldn't go out of their way to do something nice for an elf, especially when they are so high up in a rising organization." But not nearly as stupid as thinking someone with such a brash personality would not have a soft spot, he added mentally, unwilling to admit to that one. "I apologize for such unworthy thinking, my lady." He bowed his head in embarrassment.

My lady? That was a new one. She certainly was no lady, more likely the furthest thing from one, but perhaps that was a token of his respect? "And, just so we're clear…" she cocked her head, "when you say 'not what I expected', is that better or worse?"

"Better." He thought and quickly added, "Not that I ever thought poorly of you." He ran his fingers through his unkempt hair in agitation. "I'm sorry, I should just stop talking. I'm not used to dealing with people like this. It's…been a long time." To admit this, his features became almost despondent, and for the first time it occurred to her that perhaps being alone wasn't necessarily what he wanted.

She gave a reassuring smile, punching him lightly on the arm. "At least you're honest. I really appreciate that, Blackwall. Nothing makes me more agitated than people trying to flatter me with blatant lies." That's my job, she thought bitterly. "And don't stop talking. I was worried I had offended you somehow the way you kept to yourself. Please, indulge me in conversation any time." She stood up, and he followed suite. "Don't let me forget to tell the man we found the grave the next time we go to Redcliffe. Who knows, I might be juggling like twenty favors by that point and it might slip my mind. Got to keep up with that 'Andraste's Herald' image."

He frowned. "The way you say that. Is that all it is to you, an image? Or are you being facetious? I haven't been around you enough yet to decide."

She sighed. "Like I've said before, that depends on who's asking. So, who is asking? A religious fanatic or a man who enjoys honesty as much as I do?"

"The latter," he stated quickly. Enjoying it doesn't mean I give it.

"Well, I can assure you I don't buy into keeping an image. I'll do whatever I think is necessary and right and let my P.R. manager, Josephine, smooth it all out in the end. She's good at that. As for the Herald bit, to be perfectly blunt, I am a dwarf. We don't really get into the Chantry. The Chantry has never welcomed us, for one thing. I don't remember what happened to me in the fade, but I seriously doubt it was Andraste pushing me through the rift. And I REALLY don't like being called her Herald. People give me that name just to give themselves some comfort during a trying time, but I feel like it is false advertising in the end. I'm just me." She pointed to herself. "Malika Cadash with a freaky glowing hand."

He nodded. "That is comforting to hear, my lady. I have no issue with any of that. In fact, I feel much more at ease. Those that claim to know the gods' will so often cross the line of decency to achieve it, and power so often corrupts. I hope you remain the way you are no matter what people say." He fell silent for a moment. "You said you welcome conversation, right?"

"Yes," she agreed, curious as to where this was going.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, who were you praying to just now? I…don't know much about the surface dwarves. Or you." He sighed in frustration. "You don't have to answer that if you don't want, it's pretty personal. Just curious I guess."

She shrugged, unoffended. "Well it sure as hell wasn't The Stone everyone assumes we dwarfs worship. A surfacer like me is "cut off" or whatever, so why believe in something that doesn't believe in you? No, I guess it was just whoever was listening. Or maybe I was just talking to myself. I guess I just thought his wife would appreciate it, wherever she's at right now."

"Whoever was listening…" He seemed to play with those words in his mind for a moment. "You know, I call on the Maker sometimes, force of habit from my upbringing, but it really does feel more like what you said. This may surprise you, but I haven't set foot in a Chantry in 25 years."

"I'm surprised; the way you invoke various parts of the Maker in your curses I thought perhaps you were an avid follower of the Chantry," she laughed.

He did too, for the first time in months. It felt foreign in his throat, but welcome. "I think that would be a sin. Especially the parts I tend to invoke…"

Once the moment of mirth passed, she remembered their mission. "Back to the hunt, I suppose. Varric and Solas are probably glad to be at camp letting me frolic around the hills. They just don't get it…"

"Get what?"

"The need for supplies! In my…" she paused, choosing her words carefully, "…previous line of work, you needed to be prepared or you died. Having the right herbs was crucial. They think I'm crazy, but it's a habit."

"I totally understand being self-sufficient. You have to be to survive out here on your own. And, by the way, five minutes ago when I was looking around, I spotted some light blue bell-shaped flowers a bit further to the east. I think we've got our target."

"Perfect! Hopefully we find enough to keep a few for ourselves. I'm sure our alchemist would have some ideas for how to use them."

As they pressed on, the Warden once again leading, she had to shake her head with a smile. What a doozy of a first conversation. They had hit on all the most serious topics possible: stereotypes, politics, and religion. Happily, it seemed there was a lot of common ground there. He was not a self-righteous stiff as she first feared, but rather practical with a strong hint of idealism she actually envied. She hoped it would help the dynamic between them going forward. She for one no longer felt as intimidated by the warrior.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Later that night as he sat by the fire on lookout duty, Thom Rainier contemplated how things were going so far now that he had thrown himself headlong into the Inquisition's business. That decision had been haunting him all week ever since he agreed to help, creating a flare-up of anxiety he did everything in his power to suppress in front of others. He really wasn't sure what he was thinking at the time. Probably something about that firecracker of an Inquisitor, though he did genuinely want to help stop the threat of a demon invasion. It was a good, heroic thing to do, an act worthy of his namesake and the man he wanted to be. Blackwall would surely help if there was trouble like this even though Darkspawn were not involved! But logically it made no sense. He could have helped on his own, taking out pockets of demons and protecting people until the Inquisition had everything sealed up. He was doing just fine keeping a low profile. No one was looking for him, and no one suspected him of anything. He was able to be alone, able to avoid talking about himself, and it felt safe. Now that he'd gotten himself involved, it seemed everyone wanted to ask him a million questions, none of which he wanted to answer. Up until that afternoon, he had managed to mind his own business and let his companions go about theirs.

But this afternoon, he broke down and talked to the Herald. And not about the weather or how beautiful the Hinterlands were at this time of the year, but about some deeply personal things. It shocked him how easy it had been, and how much he had shared with her without thinking. That scared him.

He felt reasonably sure she didn't intend to give him a background check; the sky was riddled with holes, no one was going to turn down an offer of help. All the same, if he continued to give up information like that, she'd soon have a pretty good picture of him and the holes in his lies would be apparent.

But he wanted someone to talk to despite himself. He'd forgotten how nice that was. And she was an understanding listener who never once ridiculed him for his clumsy dialogue, only met his awkward questions with truthful answers. And she never got too serious. How many times had she made him laugh while on their expedition? More in one hour than he had in the last three years combined.  
Cursing his own indecision, he roughly threw another log onto the fire. He had thought he had come to terms with himself and his life. Apparently that had been little more than an illusion. So, what to do going forward? He still didn't know his answer to that three hours later when Solas took over for him and his head finally met the pillow. Exhaustion took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing people need to give Blackwall credit for is the fact that he risked his exposure to join the Inquisition. He could have convinced himself he could do good against the demons from the shadows where it was safer, but he didn't. And as good as Cadash is at temptation, I highly doubt he joined just because she flirted with him... To me, this was the first step towards shedding his cowardice.


	3. Digging Deeper

It had taken a few weeks, but the four members of the Inquisition had carved a path to the far southern reaches of the Hinterlands, aiding all those they encountered and bolstering their numbers through recruits eager to help after witnessing their deeds. "The Inquisition is actually doing something to help," so many had told her. "We want to be a part of that." Despite what some would probably expect of a calculating Carta thug, she never went out helping just to earn prestige and power for the organization; she just did what came naturally to her. She had suffered, she had seen a lot of people suffer, and if she could do something about it, she would.

And the people weren't the only ones approving of her actions; she could see the pleased expressions on her comrades' faces when she delivered aid to the refugees at every turn. That was also a strange thing. No one had ever looked at her that way in the past. If she did the job assigned, she was rewarded with cold acknowledgment. If she didn't, it was cold fury. All this warmth then…she didn't know what to make of that. It was almost as if they were connecting with her, building some sort of friendship out of respect and admiration for her deeds. On her end, it was becoming harder and harder to remain aloof around them. She found herself more receptive to Solas's fantastic tales of the Fade, a world she could only imagine being a dwarf. She started egging Varric on for more tales of his exploits, even poking fun at the fellow dwarf to get a laugh. And Blackwall? Well, the silence was becoming much more comfortable, but there was also less of it. He still didn't say much about himself, but situational conversation was becoming much more prevalent. Outwardly, it might look like he was the one she connected to the least, but it was quite the opposite. He had become a sort of calm, grounding force.

Soon, this formation would come to an end. The Inquisition had received notices from at least three parties offering their assistance to the organization, two from far-off Val Royeaux and one from way north on the Storm Coast. Who knew how that would affect the make-up of the team? For now, though, they had one final mission in the Hinterlands, and it loomed over them both literally and figuratively: the Summer Palace of Arl Jacen. A huge complex built into the cliffs next to a towering waterfall, the place was now a stronghold for the mysterious highwaymen that did more scaring than robbing, but still killed far too many innocents to be ignored. A note found on one of the bandit's bodies had pointed them here, and now they were formulating a plan of attack to rout them once and for all, ending the last major threat to the people of the area. Then and only then would they leave for a new region. At least, that was what Malika had thought. Then, the messenger arrived at their camp and changed everything.

He came mid-afternoon while the team was huddling around a crude map of the complex, determining strategy. Fortunately for him, the group had assisted Horsemaster Dennet, and he was able to arrive on horseback rather than run the distance from the Crossroads. "Herald!" he announced urgently, dismounting with ease. He held out a sealed letter bearing the sign of the Inquisition. "Important message for you from Haven. Please read this immediately!"

Curiously, she rose from her spot and snatched the letter from his hand, ripping it open and beginning to read. As her eyes scanned the document, her expression turned stormy. Finally, she crumpled the letter in her fist and cast a piercing look at her teammates. "Forget the bandits. We need to leave for the Fallow Mire. Now. Start packing." Before anyone could question what was happening, she whipped around and marched angrily to her tent where she proceeded to tear it down, each action reflecting aggression.

"Hey, Cadash, what's…" Varric began, stepping in her direction, but Rainier stopped him by placing a large hand on his shoulder.

"Not now, Varric," he advised in a low voice. "Let's go get our things."

"Yeah, but don't you want to know what's going on?" the dwarf insisted under his breath.

"Of course I do, but look at her. She's not ready to talk about it now. Give it time and do as she says." His eyes found her, her back turned to them and stuffing items in her bags haphazardly. A frown crossed his face. "Until then, all we can do is wonder."

"I agree with Blackwall. It will do no good at this point. Once we're on the road perhaps she will have cooled down some. Let's go," Solas nodded, breaking away from the group towards his tent.

In minutes, everyone was packed up and ready, all work done in anxious silence. A group of horsemen had arrived not far behind the messenger, handing over the horses to the team so as to enable a speedy travel to the south. She ignored the helping hand of the horseman, instead climbing on top of her bags to get the boost necessary to get her foot in the stirrup. From there, she hauled herself on top of the beast with her surprising arm strength. No one dared argue with her about needing help, not with that look in her eye. "My bags." Quickly, the man scrambled to grab them from the ground and offered them up to her. Noting that everyone was similarly mounted and loaded up, she goaded her horse forward. "Let's ride. Push them hard. We need to get there as soon as possible." With that, she took off.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

If the others had hoped to hear the story as they traveled, they were out of luck. She was serious when she said to push the beasts hard, altering between brisk gallops across easy stretches of terrain and slower trots to preserve the horses' stamina. It was on the edge of nightfall when she finally stopped so the horses could get some water and a breather. She never bothered getting down; it would be too much work getting back up. The others, however, took the opportunity to stretch. Inevitably, they found their way to her side as her horse bent down to drink. Varric and Solas looked expectantly at their warden companion, and he cleared his throat.

"If I may, my lady, what should we expect when we arrive to the Fallow Mire? I was thinking as we rode, and I remember hearing stories from some of the refugees about a plague hitting a fishing village in the northern region of the marshes. But that wasn't even the strangest thing. They said some undead from a long-ago battle were rising from the bogs, and people were forced to flee. Are we heading there to do something about it?" Ugh, he hoped not, though he would never let on. He'd rather face a dragon any day than a hoard of undead. They reminded him too much of things he'd rather forget…

She shook her head, her frown intensifying. "No, though I'm sure we'll inevitably end up helping with that along the way. The problem is of a more…living nature." She inhaled through gritted teeth. "It's some tribe called the Avvar."

Varric whistled. "Moved in when the neighbors moved out?"

"I don't' know, but what matters is that they captured a group of Inquisition scouts who were looking for a decent pathway through the region. Scout Harding sent the report to Haven, and they forwarded it to me so we could go try to get them back."

"How do we know the scouts are alive?" Solas pressed. He seemed to suspect there was more she wasn't saying.

Malika heaved an exasperated sigh. "They are hostages, meant to draw out the Herald of Andraste. We at least have a chance if we are fast. Speaking of which, have the horses rested long enough? We should be moving. We're half way there…" Abruptly, she tugged the reins and directed her horse back to the main path. The conversation was over, and despite knowing more, her companions were still left puzzled.

"This is unlike her. She's not usually this restless," Solas muttered quietly as they began to mount their steeds once more.

"I'd be pretty upset too given the situation," Varric commented dryly. "And she's more of the group's leader than you or I. I'm sure she feels more of the responsibility."

"But a leader keeps a calm head. Do you suppose there is more to it than what she said?"

Rainier just shook his head, urging his horse forward. "No, she's given us everything we need to know in her own way." It took some reading between the lines to be sure, but he was confident he understood now, even if the others didn't. "Let's make sure we keep her impulsive actions to a minimum and get those men back."

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

They'd been at it for hours, combatting the cold rain, the muck, and as Rainier feared, the undead. Cadash had insisted on pressing forward as quickly as possible once they reached the main scouting camp at Fisher's End, but heeding the older warrior's wisdom, the others held back and took precautions, much to her frustration. Solas was able to decipher runes on several tall stone columns, and used what he learned to ignite a beacon which called out the undead from the surrounding area to fight on dry land as opposed to an ambush in the swamp. This resulted in a safe path from the north end further south. No sooner had the beacon been established than she was pushing ahead once again.

Finally, the group came to a sheltered spot beneath a rocky overhang where the scouts had initially set up camp before being captured. "Good, we're getting closer," she muttered, eyes darting around as if checking for signs of a struggle in the faint light of dawn. She was about to set off again when she was stopped by Varric grabbing her arm.

"Cadash, I know we need to find those Inquisition scouts, but we can't keep running on adrenaline alone, especially not if we are going to confront a bunch of Avvar warriors at the end of this maze of chilly, soggy hell! We've been up for 24 hours and we won't be on top of our game in a fight. Let's stop and just get a few hours of rest before we keep going, huh?"

She looked vexed. "I know you are right, Varric, but I can't afford to wait. They can't afford to wait. If you are going to stay, I'm going ahead!"

"Perhaps I need to cast a paralysis spell on you?" Solas threatened, clutching his staff. "You are being more foolhardy than usual and it does not suit you…"

Suddenly, Rainier stepped in between the elf and the dwarfs. "Hold on. You two just worry about setting up camp and catching some sleep. The Herald and I…" he reached over and clasped a hand on her shoulder, "will keep watch and scout the area for clues as to the direction of the scouts." He spoke with such an assured authority that two of the three simply nodded in agreement. Malika was naturally not so inclined. "That will take us what, two minutes? We don't need to set up camp if…"

"Just follow me!" he growled, casting an aggravated look in her direction. She paused her protestations. He was usually so good-natured, she had never seen him look so dangerous before. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach as she remembered getting that same look in the past; it usually ended with a beating for her. Despite herself, she meekly followed, no longer the Herald of Andraste but back to being lowly Malika Cadash. She could feel the eyes of her other companions look on in surprise at the change in demeanor as she and Blackwall moved to the other side of the rocky outcropping.

One they were out of earshot and sight, the man turned and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Listen here…" he began roughly. He would have continued his tirade if he hadn't immediately noticed the way she flinched, seemingly bracing herself against Maker knew what. This wasn't the proud, stubborn woman he had come to know at all, and he had no idea why the change occurred. His eyes widened, and he released his grip on her, to her surprise. She wasn't even going to be shaken like a rag doll for her insolence?

"Listen, my lady," he began again, though softer this time. "I know that you are beside yourself with worry for those men. Your men. The men that follow you. I also know you feel responsible because you are the one those Avvar bastards want. They captured your men to get to you. Furthermore, you are upset because you don't even think you are the Herald, but because people keep putting that name on you this whole thing happened. Have I missed the mark in any way?"

Wordlessly, she shook her head. He had seen through all of that? But she was supposed to be the one digging through people's secrets…

"I understand your worry," he continued. Maker, after what he had done to his men, he understood perfectly clearly the way a commander could regret the loss of their lives. But she was even better than him: she was going to protect them no matter what it meant to her. It humbled him and made him burn with shame at the same time. People could say what they wanted about the snarky, rebellious Herald, but when it came down to it her heart was in all the right places, he was sure of it now more than ever.

"But you have to understand, you are no good to them dead. You push on too impulsively and you will be dead. We are in their territory now, they control the playing field. You are tired, we all are, and our judgement will suffer. And how can we hope to defeat an enemy that likely outnumbers us if we are fatigued? You are the only one who can seal the rift in the sky, and if anything happens to you all our hopes die, whether you like that or not." He paused to grab the wrist of her glowing hand, though more gently than she expected. "In fact, I know it is a truth you don't particularly care for, but this is the reality." Her face turned red at the accusation. It was true. She fought this destiny the entire way, denying it at every turn, but when he phrased it like that, said it in the way she needed to hear it even if it was harsh, her attitude suddenly began to shift.

His final words were the nail in the coffin. "And of course you understand we would never let you go alone. We would follow you, giving our lives to protect you. If you do not allow your followers to be rested and at their best, that can very easily mean that we will die in battle. Instead of having everyone walk away from this, you will have not only dead scouts, but dead companions."

Now her head was hanging, and he felt a pang of guilt. He expected more of a fight when he pulled her aside, not a one-sided tongue-lashing. His mind raced, trying to decide how to build her back up after completely deconstructing her. Finally, he got down on his knees so he was at her level. "I know I sound harsh," he said quietly, now massaging the pulse point of her wrist. "But you have to trust me when I say I have more…experience in this than you. I may be wrong, but I get the feeling you've never been made to lead anyone, much less an organization bent on saving the world. It's okay. I'm here to help you. We all are."

She couldn't look him in the eye. If she did, he might notice the tears threatening to escape, and that would kill her with embarrassment. She wanted so badly to explain why she flew off the handle in this situation, that she had seen plenty of agents in the Carta get left for dead because of their own inadequacy, the leaders feeling no remorse at the loss of their lives. That there had been times where she was left to fend for herself because no one was going to risk themselves to come save her. But if she admitted to that, she'd have to admit to that life she left behind when the Chantry exploded, and for some reason she really didn't want the noble Grey Warden before her to know just how much of a piece of trash she was. So she pressed her lips together and remained silent, her slumping shoulders the only indication of her yielding.

It wasn't all right, he could tell, but he also knew she wouldn't reveal anything more at the moment. She needed rest, and time to sift through things before they took on the Avvar. He got back on his feet. "I don't expect you'll sleep, but at least rest a little. I will keep watch."

"And when do you plan on resting? I'd hate for you to die of poor judgement," she said sarcastically, but both knew it was done to mask concern.

He chuckled. "Grey Warden stamina, my lady. There are perks to this profession." Of course he didn't actually have that ability as far as he could tell, but he'd heard of it. What would actually keep him going was his resolve to keep her safe, and to keep the men following her safe the way he hadn't in his past life.

"Fine." She turned to walk away, but he caught her with parting words that made the breath stick in her lungs.

"And my lady, if I may, I'm NEVER going to harm you, so please don't flinch anymore. It breaks my heart."

A tear was falling now, and she was grateful to be facing the other way. Damn him… She refused to acknowledge the words, but hurried away, leaving him to sigh. That got WAY more personal than he ever intended…

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

At the end of the day, the Avvar leader lay slain at her feet along with several of his lackeys. She may have landed the killing blow, but she never could have bested him in one-on-one combat. The tell-tale burns of fire, the bolts of a crossbow, and long gashes from a sword told the full story. She didn't revel in the moment though. Hurriedly, she combed his corpse for the most important item: a key to the run-down castle's dungeon. With this in hand, she fairly flew to the locked room and opened the door, revealing five roughed up but very much alive soldiers, faces painted with relief.

"I knew the Herald would come for us, I just knew it!" one of them beamed to his friend. The comment made her legs feel like jelly, but one glance from Warden Blackwall, shining with pride and utmost confidence in her gave her strength back. She owed him for this moment.


	4. A Crack in the Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people complain that Blackwall plays "hard to get" whereas someone like Cullen is ready to kiss you in broad daylight as soon as you confess your feelings. I have no complaints. Besides the fact that Blackwall is obviously feeling conflicted about getting involved with someone because of what he has done and continues to do, I found it much more realistic for him to spurn the Inquisitor's advances on the grounds that they have responsibilities. Come on Cullen, did it never cross your mind that it would be a bit weird for the Inquisitor to be lovers with a co-worker when the world is in danger? And really, real relationships don't always get the green light as soon as someone confesses feelings. Anyhow, the pacing in this romance was perfect as far as I'm concerned.
> 
> Here's a more fleshed-out look at the start of their romance.

He had been so distant since that conversation on the ramparts. It was driving her mad.

She cursed herself for hinting at her growing feelings for the Warden. Of course he turned her down, his reasons were all good ones, namely that they both had jobs to do and they couldn't let a relationship get in the way of them. She could not play favorites with him as the Inquisitor, or it would weaken her authority and leave her vulnerable. He was a Warden, and as soon as this was all over he would have to go back to the life he was living before. But he was so gruff about it, literally turning and walking away a few yards to put space between them before asking her to understand. But that wasn't his fault, he was trying to do the right thing and she was making it difficult. Ugh, she was such a fool… Malika despised herself for acting like a love-sick teenager; it certainly would have earned her scorn back in the Carta…

But she was not back in the Carta. Slowly but surely she had made friends with her fellow Inquisition companions and came to trust them as she never did with the other Carta members. Listening to Varric's stories, playing pranks with Sera, a round of drinks with Bull and the Chargers… Even people she initially held with disdain grew on her and became much more pleasant after they came to understand each other, Cassandra and Dorian being prime examples. She had almost lost all of that after Haven. She remembered gradually passing out as she struggled through the waist-deep snow, adrenaline finally wearing off, scared beyond what she could comprehend at the thought of losing them. It was a new feeling for her. And of all those people she thought she would never see again, her greatest anxiety came for Blackwall. It was an eye-opening moment.

Still, she was out of line. She was getting too soft. In the interest of giving him space, she did not bring him on the latest reconnaissance mission to the Dales. She thought it would help, but really it made her think about him even more than before, and despite everything, she found herself "inspecting" the stables where she knew he was working once she returned.

Cautiously, she entered, hands behind her back and pretending to stroll nonchalantly. He was chiseling what appeared to be the head of a rocking horse, though perhaps it was more accurate in this case to say rocking griffon. Such a Warden in all things… She laughed quietly.

He was so intent in his work that it took her laugh to make him realize her presence. He straightened up quickly and lowered his tools, looking embarrassed for some reason. "This- This is just… it's something to keep the hands busy."

"It's nice. I thought you only carved little figures," she complimented, reaching out to feel the sanded wood. "For one of the refugee children?"

"Yes. Anything that helps, no matter how small." He set his tools down on the workbench and cleared his throat. "Listen, I've been meaning to talk to you."

She suddenly felt nervous, a knot forming in her stomach. Damn it… "You have?" she said, feigning a lack of comprehension as to his intent.

"I hope you can forgive me for pushing you away," he said quietly, nervously.

She sighed. "I know you had your reasons."

"But I can't just ask you to trust my reasons blindly. I … owe you an explanation for what I did." He paused and looked around. "Just not here."

"Wherever and whenever you want, I will follow," she assured him quickly.

Much to her surprise, he informed her she would need to start packing.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Cadash shut the door behind her with a resounding click. Her head was spinning as she leaned against the door. She had returned that afternoon from a brief trip to the Storm Coast with Blackwall upon his strange, enigmatic insistence he show her something. The entire journey back to Skyhold was awkward, with him remaining silent and lost in thought. On occasion she had tried to engage him in conversation, but his responses, when verbalized, were kept to a word or two. That left her to stew in her own concern. Something was really bothering him, but he wasn't ready to talk about it. He was never ready to talk about it. At the beginning it annoyed her simply because it made her game of figuring him out difficult, but as time went on, the annoyance morphed into worry and hurt. She wanted to think he would tell her what was wrong as they became closer, yet he never did.

She had hoped to repair whatever she had damaged with her confession during that trip. She thought maybe he would finally share something with her, but in the end it left more questions than answers. He seemed so SAD when he stood on that lonely windswept cliff, looking at the skeletons at his feet. Then there was that badge. He had found it buried in the weeds and looked as if he had seen a ghost. Why? The badge was HIS! She wracked her brain for an explanation. Had he perhaps run away from his Grey Warden life? Was he feeling guilty for joining the Inquisition and abandoning whatever duties he had? Perhaps he missed friends who had been killed or was carrying a burden of guilt for their deaths. Either way, if he had been ready to talk about it there, he lost his nerve and she was very frustrated. Still, it was at least an attempt. That counted for something, didn't it?

"Damn it Blackwall," she growled, "You drive me mad!" Sighing, she staggered up the stairs intent on sleeping this whole thing off, only to gasp in surprise as she came face to face with him. Luckily she recognized him immediately even as her hands found the handles of her daggers… He was standing on her balcony and leaning against the doorframe, hands clasped nervously and seemingly unconcerned with the fact that she was prepared to murder the intruder.

"Blackwall! This is a pleasant surprise," she exhaled, trying to calm her beating heart and releasing her grip on the daggers. "Though I admit you gave me quite a scare, standing there like a phantom. How did you get here?" Seriously. Had she not locked the door to her room, or had he climbed up the side of the keep?

He ignored her greeting, clearly focused on one thing running through his mind. "I wanted to thank you for accompanying me to that ruin," he said in a low voice, stepping towards her. "I wanted to…" he stopped, choking on his words. She could read the anxiety running through his mind a million miles an hour. "I just had to see you." He was standing before her, breathing shakily, looking ready to be sick. She tilted her head up to look at him closely when suddenly he bent down and pressed his mouth softly to hers, beard and moustache tickling her face. Her heart skipped a beat at the unexpected contact, but she did not push him away. This was what she had been longing for, and she thought she would never have it the way he pushed her away before. But what changed?

He must have felt her questions in her lack of responsiveness, and he broke the kiss quickly. He took a step back, shaking his head and looking guilty. "No, this is wrong… I-I shouldn't even be here…" His face was pained as he spoke, and she knew now more than ever that what he told her was not at all what he truly wanted. It actually made her feel relieved.

"Why is this wrong?" she asked softly, searching his face for an answer. "Is it because I am the Inquisitor?"

"I want to give in. Maker knows how much I wish I could. I'm not what you want. I could never be what you deserve…"

He was surprised to hear her chuckle bitterly. "What I deserve… You're right. I don't deserve you. You're too good for me, a Warden, a hero, always keeping us to the right path. You should be turning me away for the opposite reason!"

"My lady, that's not…"

"I just don't know why you seem to think you aren't worth anything. You are a good man."

"Am I?" he questioned. His tone revealed his great disbelief at that thought like he had never once considered it.

She looked at him sadly. "I see it. It's always been clear."

He shook his head. "There's nothing I can offer you. You'd have no life with me. But I…" he squeezed his eyes shut. "I need you to end this. Because I can't." His voice was helpless and he hung his head. "We'll regret it if we let it continue."

That was how badly he wanted her. Shit. There was no way she would let him go if he wanted her like that, even if he was too good for her. She was selfish, and this was something she had never had before but always craved: a man who loved her. Her response to him was to grab his gambeson and pull him down to her level. She planted a tender kiss on his lips before allowing him to pull away. "Do you regret that?"

He stared at her wordlessly, and she smirked at the expression on his face. "Now that I know how you really feel, I won't end this, I hope you understand that."

Suddenly, relief flooded his face and whatever held him back was banished. Acting on his desires, he gently grabbed her shoulders and guided her backwards until her back was against one of the stone walls, his longing gaze never once leaving her face. He fell to his knees to get a better position, and then gave a kiss more passionate than before as his hands squeezed her forearms. She closed her eyes, wanting to take in everything. It was all she had hoped for and more, as she could feel his intentions clearly in a way he never showed with words. There was a fire that burned somewhere inside that private man and it warmed her to the core. Determined not to be outdone, she kissed back, hands gripping his gambeson for dear life. Cautiously, her tongue explored into his mouth and was met by his own. Hungrily, their tongues danced as hands moved over their partners' bodies. She noticed he was careful to avoid her chest, ever the gentleman, and from inside the kiss she moaned in approval.

Finally, she noticed something hard pressing against her thigh. It was natural given what they were doing, but it was also a good reminder for her to stop before she went further than she would like. She broke away from his mouth, panting. "I…don't want to offend, but I don't want to go any further than this for now." He obediently removed his hands from her body as she threaded her fingers through his long hair giving a reassuring smile.

"You certainly don't offend," he rumbled, holding her chin in his hand. "This is…a big enough step. For both of us." With a final, chaste kiss on her cheek, he got back on his feet. "I should excuse myself." He wasn't sure if he'd make it back to the stables or if he'd have to find some dark corner of the castle to relieve the pressure that had built up, but either way he couldn't stay long. "I…do you need anything before I go, My Lady? I don't want to make that seem anti-climactic…"

She shook her head with a dazed smile. "No, it's all right. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night then, my lady." He bowed, but before leaving he ran a rough hand along her cheek as if to cement his feelings for her and gave an adoring look. She felt faint with happiness when the door shut behind him. Thank the Maker!

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

He lay on his humble bed of hay in the stables, breathing heavily as he finished. Despite the time that had elapsed between leaving her room and arriving at the stables, it hadn't been difficult. Her soft skin, her supple lips, her silky hair, all were burned permanently into his memory. He recalled easily the feeling of moving his hands up and down her arms, of gliding across her abdomen, and tasting her mouth, sweet with the hint of wine. It couldn't be a dream, not like before. It was all too vivid.

Finally calming down, he pulled his pants back up and turned to lay on his side. Alone in the dark, he was cursing himself for being so happy about this. He had no right to be. She didn't know what she was getting into and it was all his fault for not being able to tell her the truth back on the Storm Coast. But, when she kissed him back…Andraste's tits, he was so weak. He loved her, he'd been pretending it wasn't true for a long time, but there was no longer any denying it. So, when did he plan on coming clean to her? Was the hole already dug too deep having tried, failed, and pushing the relationship further despite the failure? The happiness he had embraced only moments before quickly turned back to the fear and guilt he was accustomed to carrying, though, was it his imagination or did it seem even heavier now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know I switched up a bit of the dialogue, it was intentional. Also, it's vague whether they did anything after that first kiss, but I'm choosing to have them cut it off. Cadash has never been in a serious relationship before and doesn't want to screw this up by moving too fast. Blackwall, though he could easily get carried away, is more than happy to oblige because he doesn't want to do that to her if she doesn't know the truth. Yes, I see the hypocrisy there, but there is a reason his greatest fear is himself. Ah well, that's for another chapter.


	5. Masquerade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt that there would be a lot to talk about by the end of the night in Halamshiral, certainly much more than the brief cutscene we are given between Inquisitor and Love Interest. Also, I wanted to examine Blackwall's feelings about being back in Orlais after so much time. I kind of felt bad for dragging him along to such a fancy-pants party (even before I knew the truth), but once you knew, you really started to imagine what was going through his head.

Where was she? he wondered, brow furrowed, eyes scanning the sea of masked faces. After the Empress Celene's big address to the partygoers, he and Cassandra had taken leave to have their minor wounds patched up. Varric and Malika did not suffer any real injuries, a testament to how the warriors did their job well. Besides, Malika had been asked to address the crowd alongside Celene and was likely unable to leave even if she HAD been injured. The thought made him scowl. Politics. Orlesian vultures.

He did notice Josephine standing off to the side with her younger sister, who appeared to be giddy over the excitement and drama of the evening. Poor Josie just looked exhausted as she chided her sister whenever she could get a word in edge-wise. He approached, intent on finding Malika. "Pardon me, Lady Montilyet, have you seen Lady Cadash?"

"Oooh, Ser Blackwall!" Yvette giggled, curtseying. "I've never met a Grey Warden before! You were so brave tonight. Tell me more about the assassins and…"

"ENOUGH, Yvette!" Josephine rolled her eyes, then looked apologetically at her comrade. "I saw her exit the ballroom a few moments ago with the magic advisor following closely behind. I suspect she stepped out for some air, but I wonder what Morigan has to say to her. Why, do you need something?"

"I promised something," he said simply, turning to leave. "Thank you for your help." With a polite nod, he disappeared back into the crowd and left to search the many balconies around the palace.

It took a while to locate her, but finally he found her on the east side of the building. As he approached the balcony where his lady was contemplating the evening's events, he saw the witch walk out. This was not a figure of speech; he realized during the course of the evening that the raven-haired beauty in black lace was the sorceress employed by Celene for advice on matters arcane. Also…those yellow eyes, scrutinizing everyone…she came across as a witch, if he was being honest. As if one wrong move and she would turn him into something unnatural, those eerie eyes flashing… He gave her wide clearance as she passed by, her only response to give him a curious side-ways glance before disregarding him as unimportant. He had never felt more relieved to be unimportant.

With her safely out of ear-shot, he emerged into the cool night air. It was still, quite a contrast to the evening's events, and for the first time all night, all that horrid idle gossip was barely audible ambiance further in the palace. He could actually hear the crickets. Maker, finally some semblance of nature among everything so false! He felt a hundred times better than he did before as he inhaled deeply.  
Being back in Orlais had been more than unpleasant, and quite stressful given he had returned to his old stomping grounds. Besides the bad memories and a reminder of The Game that ruined him, there were people that could recognize him, even after all this time. Anyone who gave him a double-glance caused the breath to be trapped in his chest, even though it was usually because of his out-of-place appearance. That couldn't be helped; the beard and hair were a necessary part of the disguise, and as he saw it, made him look more like a Warden than an old military officer. He had been right to worry though. One man had pulled him aside and asked if he knew him from somewhere. Something in his eyes was familiar… He did as much as he could to change his look, but the eyes could not be changed. Thankfully, the man had been drinking and was easily turned away from the topic. He was lucky that was the only occurrence. If she hadn't asked him to accompany her as her bodyguard, he wouldn't be within five hundred miles of the place. But, for the Inquisitor, for Malika…he could suffer. And he knew she was just as unhappy about the political and social garbage as well. She understood, and that was one of the reasons he loved her.

As he thought about these things, he didn't realize he was studying her, leaning on the balcony railing and resting her chin in her hands. It was only when she turned to look at him that he broke free of the trance. "I thought I heard a sigh," she said with a tired smile.

"There are at least a dozen young lords and ladies hoping for some time with the hero of the night. Yet here you are, alone. Care to share your thoughts?" He stepped closer until he was at her side leaning on the same railing and folding his hands.

"This has seriously been the longest night of my life," Malika groaned. "And only made more complicated because Gaspard wasn't content to be a Duke. Can you imagine, being discontent with a title like that?"

"Nobles…" he shook his head. "I will never understand how Josephine deals with them without bashing heads together."

She chuckled. "You and me both." She fell silent, then changed topics. "Are you all right after our little skirmishes? You did see a healer, didn't you?"

"I've been inspected and patched up, yes, though could ask you the same, My Lady. Worse for you, you had to fight off a demon ambush, change clothes, and put on that Inquisitor face to address the court. Put Florian behind bars, stop the assassins, and end the Orlesian Civil War, all in one night." He looked into her eyes with a very serious gaze. "You will hear it a lot, I am sure, but for what it's worth, I think you are an incredible woman without compare."

She had been hearing comments like that throughout the evening as her popularity increased, skillfully navigating The Game she detested with Josephine's help. But, this was the first time all night it felt genuine instead of proper social convention, and she blushed. "I just…did what I had to do, like usual. And without everyone's help, it wouldn't have amounted to anything. After all, without you, Cassandra and Varric cutting through those assassins, I'd have never been able to solve the crime in time before being discovered and tossed out in the best case scenario. Worst case scenario, I get myself killed going at it alone."

"Modesty, yet another endearing trait of yours, My Lady," he smiled, shaking his head.

"And let's not forget Josephine with her advice that kept me from making a fool of the entire organization, Leliana with her sources of information, Cullen's dashing good looks distracting half the court while I snuck off…" She gave an unapologetic snicker at the last observation.

Rainier did not join her in her mirth. He had not been present in the ballroom throughout the evening, but he had heard the ladies atwitter passing through the hallway where he kept vigil, Commander Rutherford the name on their lips as they giggled. It made him feel cold and empty. Long ago, that used to be him. He was invited to countless Orlesian balls through his military connections, and he stole many hearts in the process. Now, no one even cared enough to ask for his name, and all he heard were whispers of disapproval, no doubt about his unkempt appearance. That was good, all things considered, but it still felt…wistfully nostalgic. He didn't deserve that kind of pleasure any longer, but somehow he wished he was back there, the gentleman of the hour, handsome, popular, decently well-off, his cup always full and a woman on his arm at all times. But no. That was the man that did horrible things. He couldn't want that any longer.

"You are tired too, aren't you?" she pressed, nudging him with her elbow.

He snapped back to attention. "Yes, I suppose I am. But there is something I am hoping for before I call it a night." He stepped back, bowed, and offered his hand. It could never be the same as it once was, but he believed it must be for the better. The world he had known as a young man had been shallow, participants playing by the unwritten rules of someone else's game, men and women hiding their true selves and speaking empty words. Admittedly, this game was still a part of him, for he never stopped wearing a mask even when he left Orlais, even when he joined the Inquisition and made friends. Yet, what he had in this moment was more real than anything. What he had called "love" in his youth had been a farce, countless women in and out of his bed, no real connection to any besides the physical. But she was more real than anything. She spoke her mind, challenged the norms, got her hands dirty instead of passing the work off to others. What he felt for her was more real than anything he ever felt in that gilded illusion.

And here he was, alone with her in the moonlight, and she had already asked him for a dance just like the girls used to. It didn't matter that she was the only one, because she was the only one worth having. "I know it's been a long night, but I did promise you a dance if you still wish it."

She put her hands on her hips. "A dance? Try 'All of them'!" she imitated, using her best growly voice.

He had to laugh. "True. I'll dance with you until you tire of me. It would be…a great pleasure."

She reached out and took his hand. It was…strangely gentle, graceful. Completely unlike the man that offered it. She let herself be pulled into hold, or some semblance of hold given the difference in their statures. He began to lead to the faint music from inside the palace with a great deal more competence than she expected. To be fair, he seemed surprised at how well she followed.

"I didn't know you danced," she commented lightly as they swayed back and forth.

"I did once. In another life…" he murmured cryptically. He closed his eyes, then looked back at her. "And yourself?"

"It…came up on occasion," she responded, equally vague. They fell into silence, both realizing how little they actually knew about their partner's past life. Soon, they'd have to come clean unless they wanted this to stay a fling, but for tonight, it didn't matter. They had earned a break from investigations.

There was one more thing on his mind though. "While I think of it, I do want to apologize to you, My Lady."

"For what?" She wracked her brain for any reason he might have to feel sorry and came up blank.

"I was…rather short with you when you asked me about the Medal of Valor earlier this evening," he admitted, looking slightly embarrassed. "I didn't mean to be gruff with you. I suppose I was a bit…stressed, but you were in no better position than me. I am sorry."

She blinked. "You are worried about that? I completely understand. I was wasting time and we had a mission to carry out. Though, now that you mention it…would you tell me the story now?"

Damn. He had been afraid of this. Quick, new subject… "I could. But I'd much rather enjoy the moment now, here with you. I find your company far more valuable." He leaned down and let his forehead rest against hers, affirming his statement.

"I suppose when you put it that way… Just, remind me next time we go to the tavern. I do want to hear your story. I feel like there is a lot I don't know about you," she sighed, pulling back and looking into his eyes.

"Yes, we can both swap stories about our pre-Inquisition day," he said lightly, suddenly twirling her. He knew that card would work, it always did. She didn't want to confess any more about her own past than he did. It was unfair that he already knew her reason when she didn't know his, but all the same it worked conveniently.

"It…has to happen soon," she admitted. Suddenly, she stopped her movements. "I…want to know you better, Blackwall. I want to get closer to you. And…I suppose it's only right for you to know me better as well. So you can decide if I am really what you want." She turned her gaze out over the courtyard as she admitted this.

Her, doubting her own worth to him? Ridiculous! That was his line, not hers! "How can you be anything but what I want, My Lady?" he insisted, dropping hold and grasping her hands. "Nothing in the past changes the woman standing before me now. And I know my feelings for her…" Deep down, he knew how hypocritical those words were; he would never believe them if she had used them to dissuade his own doubts. It didn't matter though. Let him be a hypocrite, but she was not allowed to bash herself. Desperate to show his feelings, he dragged her to the corner, enveloped in shadows where prying eyes would not notice so easily, and leaned over to deliver a deep kiss. Orlesian propriety be damned, this would not wait, and she seemed to agree.

When they finally pulled away, she gave another tired smile. "What would I do without you, Blackwall?"

"Sit on this balcony alone getting some peace and quiet," he quipped, taking one of her hands in his.

"I preferred this, thank you," she nodded, suddenly stifling a yawn. "But I'm probably done for the night. I feel a bit mad that I couldn't enjoy more dancing with you, especially after you promised me…"

"ALL of them," he finished with a twinkle in his eye.

She laughed. "Remember what I said that time in Haven? You are so oddly charming for a man I found wandering in the woods. Three little words your entire answer and yet you had me swooning."

As they ambled inside, releasing their hold on each other's hand lest they be seen cavorting in a way improper for the Inquisitor and her inner circle, they failed to notice Leliana behind the curtain, who was wearing an amused smirk. They may hate The Game, but she reveled in it for reasons such as this…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Blackwall and Cadash try to keep their relationship on the down low due to all the publicity it would bring if it was well known. Still, you can't very well pull one past Leliana, the master spy... Good thing she understands the importance of keeping it secret!


	6. Banish the Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It always annoys me how there is no real difference in how in-game people treat the Inquisitor even if they are a Dwarf who has experienced the Fade for the first time. I know the other races don't remember what they dream necessarily, but that still should be a point of differentiation to be addressed. I know in game my Cadash always gets jumpy and starts snapping at people during that ordeal because it is an overload to her. Besides that, there are a lot of other heavy emotional issues that come up in this plot point, making it my favorite. This chapter is mostly about how Malika is dealing with all that she has experienced.

None of the four who entered the Fade were asked to keep watch that night. If Malika had her way, she'd tell everyone, Warden and Inquisition alike, to escape the dismal reality through sleep and forget about keeping watch. Who among them would pick a fight after all the senseless violence that day had brought? Unfortunately, there were enough that distrusted the Wardens after their blind actions, and they would not let them out of their sights. So be it, as long as they were left out of it. It was understood that as much as everyone else had experienced during the horrifying, death-filled siege of Adamant, the quartet's added jaunt to a forbidden realm had been the bitter icing on the cake. Treading where man was not meant to tread, they returned drained physically and emotionally, and despite the persistent questions they were asked, not one of them divulged much of anything besides "Hawke won't be coming back". That alone was painful enough.

To make things worse, they would not leave her alone until she passed judgement on the remaining Wardens. Like she was in her right mind after everything that had happened and could make a sound decision! Many tried to convince her that the Wardens were traitorous and should be banished from Orlais indefinitely. After watching them sacrifice each other with blood magic, they were worked into a frenzy. Malika thought the Wardens had been incredibly stupid to attempt such a thing, but to ban the one group in Thedas who could help against Darkspawn threats for being manipulated by a "god"…it seemed foolish. She wanted to think, to make the right call by considering all the angles, but her brain would not allow it. She had asked to sleep on it, but the crowd did not budge. The "traitors" could attack them in their sleep if they were not vigilant...

She was not proud of it, but Andraste's Herald lost her temper. She snapped at them that the Wardens were not a threat that night, they were reeling from the deception same as the rest. Her advisors disagreed, and she could see the looks of disapproval on their faces, which only led to intensify her anger. They were always so quick to judge! She had felt her shoulders tense, her fists clench, her pulse increase as if she were back in the thick of battle. The one thing that kept her from losing it completely was the one person who looked worried but kept his mouth shut: Blackwall. It wasn't difficult to know which side he was going to take on this, but he looked leery of expressing his opinion when the group he supported was in the wrong. She blocked out the ringing voices and closed her eyes, pushing her thoughts back to the speech he had given the Wardens, the one that saved countless lives. When presented with reason, everyone whose mind wasn't already controlled turned against Erimond and his ritual. They had been scared, misled, but they were not evil. With a watchful eye, they would not make the same mistake twice no matter what her advisors said.

She knew what she would decide whether it took her ten seconds or an entire day. With a bellowing voice, she declared over the rabble that the Wardens would not be exiled and would fight to earn their honor back. There was finally silence as everyone stood in disbelief. Everyone except Blackwall, who gave a relieved sigh and a warm smile. It gave her a feeling of contentment; as much as she hated to admit it, she knew deep down his was the opinion she valued the most. Suddenly, there was cheering among the Warden, and she was mobbed by grateful soldiers, called every honorific in the book, showered with praise. Stammering, she had held up her hands to keep them back, then found a hole in the crowd to sneak through, all her years as a rogue coming in handy. It wasn't quite running, but she hurried quickly enough to find a quiet space, staying in the shadows and dodging fallen debris. She was done and she looked forward to slipping into the black void of unconsciousness.

Cadash made her way to a secluded corner on the upper level of the fortress and began to remove her armor. The room she claimed had a few sacks of grain, and she grabbed one to use as a pillow. There, hiding in the dark, she tried to find escape.

The problem was, as soon as she closed her eyes, images of the Fade swam in her vision. No matter how she tossed and turned, tried to direct her thoughts elsewhere, it remained to haunt her. The spiders. The nightmare demon. Statues with faces contorted in pain. Fearful spirits denied peace or rest. There was no one to explain to her what this distressing phenomena was.

She wasn't sure how long she laid there fighting off these thoughts before she growled in aggravation. She was bone tired but could not find the sleep she craved. It almost made her want to cry. Aggravated, Malika got up and stormed out of the room to the ramparts.

The courtyard had quieted down since she took off, tents being erected by both parties, campfires being lit, armor being stripped off and healers doing the rounds. Thankfully, it looked as if no one was going to question her decision, nor were they trying to find her.

"There you are."

She jumped, never considering to look in the darkened doorway behind her. "Thank Andraste it's just you," she groaned, turning to face her Warden. "I was worried they'd send a team to track me down because heaven forbid the Inquisitor catch a break." Her tone was bitter, but she didn't care. There was nothing she had to pretend when she spoke to him.

He cast a worried frown in her direction and scratched his head. She noticed he still had spatters of black demon blood on his face that he never bothered to wipe off, and his long hair was matted with grime from slogging through the Fade. At least he had removed his armor… His eyes were tired, dark circles ringing them, yet it seemed all his worry was directed onto her. "I had to make sure you were all right, the way you took off. You've been through a lot today."

"I know I'm supposed to be tough, but Andraste's ass..." she sighed, moving away from the courtyard and looking over the wall at the nighttime desert stretching endlessly to the horizon. He followed, standing at her side. She was surprised when his hand covered hers on the railing, squeezing gently.

"You can't sleep, can you, my lady?" he guessed.

She shook her head emphatically. "It's never happened before. You know, dwarves are cut off from the Fade. We don't dream. Suddenly, I get thrown in the middle of dream world, a place that could drive humans or elves insane in an instant. It's too much…" she clutched her head with her free hand and grimaced. "It's like being blind all your life then suddenly receiving your eye sight. You wouldn't know what to make of everything you're seeing. Then, for fun, make that previously blind person start judging what is the most beautiful that same day."

His face clouded with guilt. "I-I'm sorry my lady. I had heard dwarfs did not have magic, but I forgot that meant they lacked dreams," he admitted sheepishly. "And here we were hauling you along through the most concentrated nightmares ever. No wonder you can't sleep…"

"I was rather cranky in the Fade, wasn't I?" she said dryly. "I think I was going to punch Hawke and Stroud…"

He chuckled. "They were arguing like they were standing in the city plaza, not neck-deep in demons." Quickly, he sobered. "It wasn't easy to lose Hawke… We've been lucky we haven't lost anyone we knew personally yet. This makes it so much worse."

"He got on my every last nerve, but he certainly didn't deserve that," she said quietly. Her expression was downcast. "Maker, you know what this means. We have to tell Varric…"

"Maker's balls…" His expression was equally pained, imagining having to tell his friend that news. They fell into silence, trying not to think of Vaaric's inevitable reaction.

Her eyes came back to him, lost in his thoughts as he stared out at the silvery sands. A thought crossed her mind. "I was having the worst time ever in the Fade, but you were so strong. So brave. Like nothing phased you at all. I'm sorry you ended up in there with me, but I admit I'm glad I had you with me to get me through it."

He looked at her with a sad smile. "You must remember My Lady, I am a human. I visit the Fade each night, and I have the bad luck of attracting some rather intense nightmares." Not bad luck, you're being haunted, he corrected himself internally. "I don't mean to make light of your experience, but those are the sorts of things that come to me almost every night. I am nearly immune to them now." That's another lie," he corrected bitterly. He ALWAYS woke up in a cold sweat from those dreams even after all these years.

"I'm sorry Blackwall," she murmured. "I have always taken a peaceful sleep for granted. I guess I understand now what you other races experience."

He waved it off. "Hey, when it is all you know…"

"So, another question. You don't have to answer if you don't want to," she continued, looking up to the stars. "Those little demons. The ones that take on different forms. What did they look like to you?"

He couldn't tell her the whole truth about that either. They were his soldiers, the children, Calliet and his wife, all the people who died because of his deception. They were shambling corpses, dead who could not rest, not while he remained alive. Remembering that image put a knot in his stomach.

She could tell he wasn't comfortable answering, so she supplied her own answer instead. "Can you keep a secret, Blackwall? What I saw is pretty embarrassing for the Inquisitor…"

This succeeded in distracting him. "I promise not to tell."

"Your fearless leader trembles before…spiders," she admitted, pretending to hide her face in shame. She was too perfect. While he was afraid of those images of his dark past, she was afraid of eight-legged insects.

"Corpses," he answered out of the blue. "Dead that won't stay dead." He gritted his teeth and studied the battlement. Then, he felt her arms wrap around his and her face press against him.

"Next time we go a cave, you can go in first and clear out the damn arachnids. And if there happens to be a crypt, I'll make sure they rest in pieces before you come in. Sound like an acceptable deal?"

"It sounds perfect," he agreed, bending down and planting a kiss on the crown of her head. "Do you feel a bit better now My Lady?"

"A little, yes. But I have a request," she looked up at him seriously. "I…would feel a lot better if you were next to me. I mean, not sleeping WITH me, just next to me. In case the nightmares come back…" She couldn't quite look at him as she asked, embarrassed that she needed the company like a child afraid of the dark.

Truthfully, the thought of not having to face this night alone was tempting. He nodded slowly. "I…wouldn't mind at all. We'll find some out of the way corner…"

"I have one already staked out. Come on!" She led him by the arm, and he followed willingly with a smile. Once they arrived back in the storeroom, she pulled out another sack of grain for him. "Not quite Skyhold, but when you're tired…"

"You sleep," he finished with a mighty yawn, loosening the buckle of his belt. Then, he looked around. "You won't be cold? Maybe I could find a blanket…"

"I'm sure it won't be that bad…" she dismissed him, settling on the ground and kicking off her boots. Groaning from his aching body, he followed suit. Then they both laid there in silence, neither quite ready to doze off, like something still needed to be said.

Finally, he decided it was the unnatural green glow of her hand. "Do you ever find it hard to sleep with your hand glowing like that, My Lady?" he wondered. "I've never thought about it."

"At first, I used to wrap it up so it wouldn't be so bright, but that just irritated my hand, so I gave it up," she admitted, holding it before her face and glaring. "I guess like everything else you get used to it."  
"Yeah…" Silence again. Then what he really wanted to know. "Do you ever get angry that this happened to you? I mean, you finally got your memories back in the Fade. You KNOW how this happened. Are you…okay with all of that?"

She sighed, clenching her left hand into a fist. "I…thought I didn't care. I knew I wasn't chosen by Andraste, so this isn't any real surprise. And yet…" she stopped, unsure of her own feelings. "I can't help but feel disappointed. Like…I wanted there to be a better reason for this happening to me besides 'I was in the wrong place at the wrong time'. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if someone out there had a plan for me."

He grunted. "I always found it hard to stay within the Chantry even though I grew up with it. They always drummed into our heads that the Maker is absent until we prove our worth. It's not the most compelling way to feel like you matter to the great Divine. If it means anything, I…wish you had gotten an answer that would give you peace, not leave you with less." He reached over and brushed her cheek. To his great surprise, he found it wet with tears.

"I'll feel even more like a fraud every time they call me the Herald of Andraste," she said quietly, turning to face him. "And what, I heard a commotion while I was spying on the Grand Divine, peeked through the door and grabbed the glowing green ball that rolled at my feet. That is the reason why I am in charge of thousands of soldiers, the reason I get to decide whether to spare or murder people, the reason I have to decide whether the Wardens stay or get kicked out. That's…" she choked. "…not a good reason at all…"

That was enough. He reached out for her and pulled her close, rubbing her back. "The reason doesn't matter anymore. People see the good you do and they are drawn to you like I was drawn to you. Cassandra and Leliana and everyone in the inner circle agreed you should be given the title of Inquisitor because of your merit, not because Andraste touched you. If you were a horrible leader, they'd have set you on a shelf somewhere and fed you lines, not put you out in front before the people. And, for what it's worth," he paused, running a hand through her hair, "I think it brought you some happiness. Am I wrong?"

She shook her head with a small smile, reaching to hold his hand against her head. She could feel the new blisters forming despite his heavy gauntlets, but she didn't care how rough his hands were. They were gentle and that was all that mattered. "It brought me you at the very least." Then, she leaned forward to kiss him. He pulled away, causing her to blush. The corpses were still fresh in his mind, but there had to be another reason for his sudden behavior.

"I don't mean to be rude, My Lady, but I am a disgusting mess. I haven't washed up since before this battle, and a lot of…filth has occurred since. I am not unaware of my current state…"  
She looked amused. "I noticed on the ramparts. I should probably care, but right now I really don't. What say you to that?"

He did his best to wipe his face with his free hand. "If you don't mind, I won't deny you…" Her lips met his before he could finish his sentence. There was no spark to it, but rather serenity. His arms moved to wrap around her waist as she draped her arms around his neck. When they broke the kiss, she rested her forehead against his, grime and all. "I think I'm cold…"

"Then stay close to me," he advised, rolling onto his back and pulling her so her head rested against his shoulder. "Sleep well, My Lady."

And with that, they were finally able to drift into sleep unbroken by the nightmares. She even forgot the last question she had for him: Why his greatest fear was himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's okay, Malika, he wouldn't have answered that last question anyhow. It will all make more sense soon...


	7. Tasting Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, I don't know how to write physical romance, but I don't know how to further some of their story without it, because it is a big deal for them both. I hope it isn't too cringe-worthy... Also, for me, this is the first time they get together. Right before he leaves. I try and figure out what is going through his head that he would make such a horrible decision, though your guess is as good as mine here. My number one goal was to make this believable for this romance and to understand his character better at this critical point where he earns about negative ten billion popularity points from fans.

He sat alone at the bar nursing an ale. He really shouldn't have been in public at that moment, but the thought of losing his fear in alcohol seemed so tempting.

It was Mornay. Funny how after all the years that had passed that name still tore into him and made him bleed. Mornay had been a good man, a good soldier. He had left Mornay and many others to die in order to save his own neck. Luckily, the man was able to escape, at least for a while. Unfortunately, he just received word that his former subordinate had been captured even after ten years. There was no doubt what fate awaited the poor man. And what was he going to do about it?

The easy answer would be to do nothing. The deed, as evil as it had been, was done. Many of his other soldiers had already met the hangman's noose. Even if he turned himself in now, it wouldn't take that sin away. Instead, he could continue trying to make up for the crime with more good with her and the Inquisition.

But she was exactly the problem. She loved him, and he loved her, but the truth was that she didn't even know him. Sure, he could stay, but then he'd only continue to lie as he had been. No matter how many times he worked up the courage to tell her the truth, he always backed out at the last moment. Maybe Mornay was the one thing that would give him the strength he needed to confront the past he always ran from.

Then, he shook his head. No. If he stood up for Mornay, he'd be dead and publically exposed. She'd die of heartbreak. But that still didn't mean he could in good conscience stay at her side enjoying her love while his sins of the past continued to corrupt more lives. She would despise that. And he knew the real Blackwall would never have let that happen either.

Suddenly, someone sat down on the stool beside him, causing his heart to jump to his throat. Speak of the devil… "There you are, Blackwall. I've been looking everywhere for you!" she smiled, motioning to the bartender to pour her the same as he was having.

"Not many places to look, I suppose," he responded blandly. Her drink was served and the two sat in silence. Unconsciously, he heaved a huge sigh.

"Something's on your mind," she observed carefully, studying him.

He shook his head. "It's nothing…"

She arched an eyebrow. "I know you better than that, Blackwall. You know I'm here for you if there's a problem. Please." She folded her arms.

He sighed again. There was no getting away from this, so as was habit, he told something partially true. "I was thinking about when we went to that ruin and found that badge. Everything seemed clear then, like I could do anything with you at my side." He studied the bar. "That's a hard word, you know. Mean's a lot."

She felt flattered, yet at the same time the way he said it didn't make her feel horribly enthused. It was obvious this was no topic for the barroom. "You mean a lot. Let's get out of here," she suggested, rising from her stool and downing the last of the ale. Obediently he followed.

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The stables were deserted for the night. Only the dim light of flickering candles lit the darkness as they climbed the stairs to the loft, Malika first and Blackwall following. Once both were there and certain no one was around, the defenses they put on around others fell. She reached out for him, pulling him close to her with her arms around his waist. "Something is wrong. Tell me," she spoke quietly. He bent his head and began to kiss her. At first it was soft, unsure, but as she responded receptively, the intensity grew. Slowly, he pushed her backwards with the fire of his kisses, and all she could do was obey and moan with pleasure.

Something in her moan triggered a switch in his brain. This was wrong. It always had been. He was no good for her, they could never be together. At first he did his best to keep distance between them. It didn't last. Malika was stubborn and insisted that she knew what she wanted. Instead of turning him away as he had begged, she refused and pulled him closer. He had been weak, he had given in, and now he was going to hurt her because he had been selfish and cowardly and let the relationship he had so craved blossom. But Maker, how he wanted her more badly than he had ever wanted any woman... Thom Rainier had never truly loved anyone, only lusted. This was a first, and it was all the more terrifying because he knew it was impossible.

"You need to know that I'm not worthy of you," he said quietly, suddenly pulling away. He averted his eyes and continued his lie. He would be gone soon, there was no point in telling her the truth now only to cause her more pain than she would already feel when he left. Let her believe in something far kinder than the truth. "There's no future for us with me as a Warden." He held out his badge, offering it to her. He was trying to hand in his resignation, or so it seemed to her.

She roughly pushed the badge away. "There it is again, that line. You keep pushing me away even though I want you and I know very well you want me too. Why do you keep doing this? I know you have a heavy burden. I know you have committed yourself to the Wardens. And I know that someday you will hear the Calling for real and I won't be able to do anything to stop it. But if worrying about sparing me makes you try to distance yourself, you've got it all wrong, Blackwall! I don't want to be spared. You know I could just as easily die tomorrow. You know I have a commitment as the Inquisitor. We're not so unalike. But that just means we need to support each other through it." Her eyes held that stubborn look he was so accustomed to seeing. "Maybe it means we won't be able to settle down, get married, have a family. But I need you here with me with whatever time we have. I…" her voice cracked. "I need you to love me." Because no one ever has. Her face flushed with the admission. Never in her life had those words crossed her lips. But he did the most bizarre things to her…

Damn it, she always made this impossible. He couldn't reveal the real reason for not being able to be with her, and there was no counter to her declaration of support for his "Warden" vocation. His final resistance crumbled as he realized she was willing for anything, no matter how brief, as long as she had something. That much he could give her, and he would hold nothing of his feelings back with the one chance he had. She must know that she was loved. Besides, one moment of pure happiness before facing the gallows, was it a crime to want that if she was offering? Yes, his conscience snarled, but he did his best to tune that thought out. Not now, not in their shining moment together. Even as his logic began to fade into desire, he was conscious enough to only promise her that night. "Then let there be nothing else. No one else. Just you and me," he breathed in a husky voice, choked in desire. He pressed his forehead against hers, burning.

She gasped. She could feel the need radiate from him as he slowly pushed her backwards. Suddenly, her heels caught on the edge of his makeshift bed, bales of hay covered with skins. A rough place to lay his head for a rough man. It didn't matter. He could take her on the ground or against the wall for all she cared, just Maker, please let him take her! For the first time in all her thirty years, she actually wanted this. She fell backwards, body splayed out and he followed on top of her, covering her with his large frame and resting on his elbows, now pushing her into the hay with kisses more uninhibited than she had ever known from him. As much as she hated to appear needy, she found herself whimpering with desire, begging through his mouth against hers for more. Her arms wrapped around his head, weaving through his hair, and held him to her lips, tongue gaining entrance to his mouth. There, under his protective hulking form, this was perfect. This was safe. This was home.

His rough hands wandered over her body for the first time. Eagerly, and without breaking their passionate kissing, he unbuttoned her shirt, revealing her breast band. As his calloused fingers grazed over her toned stomach, he could feel her shiver with excitement. Finally, he broke the kiss to kneel, straddling her, and undo the buckles of his armor. His burning gaze never left her save for when the shirt was pulled over his head, and while he was busy she took advantage of the moment to work her way out of her binding. With that, they were bare-chested, both eyeing the other with carnal appreciation. She'd seen him shirtless a few times, mostly when he was getting wounds treated, but this, with him looking at her with unmasked desire, silver moonlight shining off the dark hair of his chest, this was altogether different and intoxicating.

He ran a loving hand through her short silver hair and began to trail kisses from her neck down to her generous breasts. Oh, she was beautiful. Before being the Herald of Andraste, he was sure no one told her that. She was a dwarf, after all. Short, stocky, her teeth had an unlady-like gap, a scar ran over her right eyebrow, and anyone could tell that her eyes had seen a lot of difficulty. But those things did not detract from her beauty; they made her real. Her emerald eyes, so filled with skepticism when they had first met, now adored him, her full lips turned in a dreamy smile instead of a frown. In surrender, she was a goddess. A goddess who had seen some of the worst the world had to offer, but still believed in him. Maker, he didn't deserve her, but damn him, he was going to take her anyhow if she was willing. With new resolve, he turned his attention to caressing her body and removing the rest of their clothes.

Soon she lost the ability to form coherent sentences as she was lost to her desire. All she could utter was "Blackwall…" Over and over. The way she said his name, it hit him to his core. It shouldn't have, it wasn't even his real name, but strangely that ceased to matter. There had never been a bigger turn on than this, the woman he loved more than any other calling for him, pleading him. Needing him. Any thoughts of guilt disappeared into his own need to be with her. And soon, he was whispering her title in response as their bodies joined.

"My Lady…" Those words as his breath hitched in his throat. He'd said them so many times, but somehow, despite the heat of their passion, he breathed her title like a prayer, like she was his Andraste. Like he worshiped her. She had never felt anything like this in her life. Those words were her undoing. Her undoing quickly became his own. When it was over, he collapsed beside her on the bed, chest heaving.

She was the first to recover. "Blackwall…" she whispered, trembling. Her hand caressed his face, stroking through his beard lovingly. "Thank you."  
His brow furrowed. "What makes you say that?"

"I…I'll tell you later. Just, lie with me now. I want you near me. Please." She stretched her neck up to kiss him again, though this time it was sweet and tender, not passionate and fiery. It was unlike the Inquisitor to plead anyone for anything, and his heart melted. He reached out and hugged her close to him. She could feel the tickle of his chest hair on her cheek, hear his pulse slowly returning to normal. There was silence, save the occasional shuffling of the horses in the stable next door. Nothing needed to be said; it had all been felt. He wished they could lie like that forever in the afterglow of their lovemaking. It was even more bitter to know they could not.

Once her eyes closed and her breathing deepened with the coming of sleep, he carefully released his hold of her. It was the hardest thing he had ever done, even harder than turning her away that first time. It had gone too far, and all he could do was pray that he was going to hurt more than she would for this. Something in the way she asked him to lie with her made him doubt. Finding his resolve, he got up and dressed, trying not to make too much noise. It was time. He'd loved her, now he would leave her and hope she could forgive him for that; it was better than her knowing the truth. He looked back at her one last time, the woman he loved lying naked on his bed, looking more at peace than ever before. Suddenly, tears stung his eyes. Damn it. He was finally getting the hell he deserved for all of his countless sins. Was it worth the high of making love to her if it meant feeling this much hurt afterwards? He had believed so initially, but it seemed he was wrong.

Gently, he set the warden's badge he had shoved into his pocket on the bed next to her. Andraste, let her believe he was gone to fulfill some Warden task, something noble that caused him to leave her… He wanted to kiss her one last time, or at least pull a blanket over her, but it might wake her, then he would never be able to leave. Turning away quickly, he descended the stairs before putting on his boots. Then there was the note.

-There is little I can say to ease the pain. Just know that while it hurt to leave, it would've hurt more if I'd have stayed. I am deeply sorry.

It was a shitty note. It didn't even begin to cover the intensity of the despair he was feeling, but it was all he could say without giving away too much. He tried to console himself, telling himself that surely someone like the Herald of Andraste would find someone new, someone better, in no time. He had to believe that. Leaving the note attached to his unfinished griffon rocker, he disappeared into the night, her kisses still haunting him, her touch lingering on his back.

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When she began to regain consciousness, she was puzzled to feel something scratchy rubbing against her skin. Groaning, she opened her bleary eyes. It was still dark, though there was a faint glow on the horizon as dawn was coming. As her eyes adjusted, she realized she was not in her room, but in the loft of the stable. And everything came back to her. She had finally made love to Blackwall, and it was better than anything she had ever experienced, if for nothing else than the sheer amount of love he had poured into her. Not that he wasn't good at handling the other aspects... She smiled to remember, but then just as quickly frowned. Where was he?

She sat up, looking around the dimly lit loft. Her clothes were there in a pile on the ground, but his were nowhere to be seen. Where in the hell did he disappear to? Did one of the horses have an emergency or something? Then she looked down and saw it: the warden badge. The badge he had tried to give her last night before conceding to her. Then she knew, and she wanted to cry or throw up or curl into a ball and disappear. He was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still can't come up with one good reason why he couldn't at least cover her up before he left... Not wanting to wake her up or feeling too emotional was the best I could come up with. Out of everything, that actually bothers me the most! Well, she'll let him hear about it later.


	8. To the Darkest Depths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love or hate Blackwall, I think we all wanted more angry options in the jail scene... Word of caution, both our protagonists are, as the chapter suggests, in their darkest depths at this point, and the vivid, graphic language that ensues reflects that. While it is not usually my style, I felt given the characters' backgrounds and the gravitas of the moment it was called for. Otherwise, I was just trying to air my grievances through Malika. He did horrible things in the past but that was never what made me angriest. Feel free to agree or disagree, but let Malika have her rant!

There he was, on the scaffold before a huge crowd. A few feet away from the man he betrayed, heart thundering in his chest. He hadn't said it yet, it was stuck in his throat. But then…

"Oh, shit." It was Varric's voice, no mistaking. Bracing himself, he scanned the crowd and noticed the dwarf, standing right next to her. Her eyes were pleading, confused.

"Blackwall?"

He closed his eyes. He somehow knew this would happen. She was always too stubborn for her own good. She would track him down. Somehow, though, it gave him the strength for his final confession, because more than anyone, he needed to confess to her. "No, I am not Blackwall. I never was Blackwall. Warden Blackwall is dead, and has been for years. I assumed his name to hide like a coward from who I really am."

The prisoner with his neck in the noose stared in awe. "You…after all this time…" The man who was not Blackwall turned to look at him and directed his next words to him.

"It's over. I am done hiding." He turned to face the crowd. "I gave the order. The crime is mine. I am Thom Rainier." The crowd gave an audible gasp, but he only stared ahead blankly. He couldn't look at her face; no torture would be worse. Clenching his fists, he stalked off the scaffold, followed by every soldier in the vicinity. They were quick to draw swords and lead him away, holding back the crowd that was starting to come to life after the shock. Jeers, insults, furious accusations assailed him as he was led away, but he couldn't hear any of it. Everything had gone numb.

The only two left standing were Malika and Varric. Varric sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I knew he was dodging something, but Andraste's ass, that's…more than I expected." He looked at his companion and realized that she had been rendered completely catatonic. Her hands trembled, her breathing was labored. "I think we need to get you somewhere out of sight for a while."

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The guards eyed her curiously as she pushed her way deeper into the prison. Why should the Herald be here, where the filth of the earth dwelled? Well, one of the pieces of filth was hers, and no matter what her advisors would say, she had to talk to him. Varric had seen to alerting Leliana's spies about the situation so they could report back to the inner circle. He also knew she was going to need space before she needed comforting.

Her head was spinning, but those thoughts were interrupted by one of the guards. "Excuse me, your Excellency. I don't mean to intrude, but we cannot allow any weapons brought into the prison. You understand," he said timidly, holding out his hands. She sighed, removing the twin daggers from her back and handing them over. "Many thanks my lady." To hear that name, she winced. "Please let us know if you need anything."

"Thanks," she murmured, pressing on further into the gloom. He was as far from the light as they could put him, slumped in a dank cell. He undoubtedly heard the footsteps, but didn't move. She studied him, the way his hands gripped his knees as if in pain, the way his eyes were squeezed shut as if blocking out horrible memories, the way he seemed to curl up into himself. He was a man tormented. Though she had had all kinds of time to think about how she was going to start this conversation, not a one idea occurred to her. Sighing, she came next to his cell and sat down on the damp stones of the floor, leaning against the chill metal. They sat there in silence for some time before he finally spoke.

"I didn't take Blackwall's life. I traded his death. He wanted me for the Wardens, but there was an ambush. Darkspawn. He was killed. I took his name to stop the world from losing a good man." He paused. "But a good man, the man he was, wouldn't have let another die in his place." He fell silent once more.

She shifted so she was facing him. "I…I can't process all of this. Less than a week ago you were a Grey Warden, the person I turned to for everything, the first man I've ever loved. I don't even know where to start." She drew a shaky breath, holding her head in her hands. "So we'll start from the beginning. You are going to tell me everything you've been withholding from me. And that is a LOT, but I've got plenty of time. To begin with, those crimes. Is what they say true, about killing that man and his family, or did someone get the story wrong? I can't imagine you would do something like that…"

"It's all true. Take a look at me for what I really am." For the first time, he looked at her, his face like some hunted animal. The beast in it sent a chill down her spine. "For gold. I killed them for fucking gold. Actually, I had my men do the killing, which is why they were tried and convicted while I ran free. What kind of monster does that? I admit, killing the wife and children was an accident, they were not supposed to be traveling with him. But that's all I can claim for innocence. Even then, I heard them in the carriage but was too afraid to reveal the truth to save them."

"That's…that's extremely despicable," she said darkly. "Part of that blood-stained Orlesian game, no doubt. Unfortunately it seems it turned on you; if the right person were in control, you wouldn't be in this much trouble for it. Isn't that how it goes in their circles?"

"That's about the truth of it. I got myself wrapped up in someone else's grand machinations so I could gain more power and wealth even though I had all the power and wealth I needed. And even if it could have swung the other way, it doesn't matter, does it? It was an evil thing to do. No decent person would kill innocents."

"It was." She inhaled deeply. "That's why…it's hard to imagine you doing something like that. You've either changed your ways or are a damn good actor, and after all the lies you have been telling everyone who trusted you, I am leaning towards the latter. To be completely honest, the original crime is not what makes me the most furious, though it is extremely disappointing to hear that someone you considered a hero was no better than you. You seem to forget on every occasion just like everybody else in bloody Thedas that I ran with the Carta. I was a straight-up criminal. I have done my fair share of despicable things, telling myself it was necessary to survive. I can't judge you for what you did all those years ago, just as you have never judged me for what I did. We see each other as we are now. That's where the real problem is.

"You could have just told me you weren't a Warden, but it was a misunderstanding, that you were running away from a big mistake in your past, and that's all. I wouldn't have pried for details, but it would have made everything easier. That's why…why I am so pissed at you!" She gripped the bars of his cell, eyes flashing. "The murder stuff? That was in another life. But how the hell could you sleep with me when you were pretending to be someone else the whole time? Who did I make love with? What gave you the right?" Tears stung her eyes as she clenched her teeth. "And then to make things worse, you left me. Right after consummating our relationship. Dennet could have walked in and found me naked on your bed, and where were you? Where were you when I was the most vulnerable?"

"This is why I am no good for you," the man snarled. "Besides being a coward, I lied to you, that's all there is to it." He laughed bitterly. "You weren't supposed to find me. You were just supposed to think I was gone."

"To your death?! With all the crap about Wardens hearing their Callings, you thought leaving and making me think it was for some noble Warden purpose would be better? I was worried sick! You didn't even say goodbye or give me closure!"

"I didn't want you to see me like this!"

"You mean you didn't want me to see you, the real you." Disappointment filled her voice.

Suddenly, he rose and moved menacingly to the bars before her. "Don't you understand? I gave the order to kill Lord Calliet, his entourage, and I lied to my men about what they were doing!" In frustration, he rattled at the door of the cell, causing her to step back. "When it came to light, I ran. Those men, my men, paid for their treason while I was pretending to be a better man." At the last part, his tone took a mocking effect, as if scorning his own efforts to change. "This…is what I am." His wrath spent, he sank to the floor of his cell. "A murderer. A traitor. A monster." His voice decrescendoed as he collapsed into a ball. "Wouldn't you be happier thinking I was a noble man, A Grey Warden, instead of this… I would have saved you the pain of learning that all you knew about me was a lie. You loved a lie." At the last part, his voice cracked, causing a lump to form in her throat.

"But can't a lie become the truth?" she challenged. "Maybe you started out trying to hide behind the name of a good man, but I've seen the extra distance you go for others. You joined our Inquisition when it would have been easier to hide. You defended me and the others to the point of spilling your own blood, always the first get between your comrades and a blow. You never stopped helping everyone when we moved to Skyhold, even when you were dead tired and famished, putting others before yourself. Damn it, you even made those toys for the children! What about that is a lie?!" Finally, the dam burst, and she choked on tears. "The man I gave my heart to was not a lie, I can't believe that."

No. This is what he had not wanted to see more than anything. Her tears. He caused this. There was only one way he could mitigate the damage. She had to move on. He had to break her heart to keep it from loving him. "When I said I was no good for you this is what I meant. But you kept pushing! I tried so hard not to let it go this far, but always you were pushing! You have no one to blame but yourself," he growled darkly. "I gave in that night because you were throwing yourself at me, and I thought I may as well enjoy it if I was going to die. It had nothing to do with you or how I felt about you. It was a moment of weakness and lust. You were nothing…"

"SHUT UP!" she screamed, red-tinged eyes blazing in wrath. Her words reverberated off the stone walls, but at this point she didn't care who heard. She was done being the figurehead of a huge organization, right now, she was a woman scorned and nothing else mattered. "Even now you keep lying to me, trying to make it hurt less, but all it does is make it hurt more! How stupid can you be Thom Rainier?! Do you really expect me to believe that I was nothing to you after everything we've been through together, after everything you have said and done? Well I'll tell you something, something I meant to tell you that night but I didn't." Her voice shook with rage and…something else.

"You know I was with the Carta. It's a rough life. Part of being a woman in the Carta is getting used to earn favors from people by sacrificing your body. Do you understand how man men have fucked me just so my boss could get a deal, or how many overseers saw fit to fuck me, saying I would comply if I wanted to keep a job? That's all it was, too. It wasn't making love, it was fucking. No one ever asked what I wanted, no one touched me with tenderness, no one bothered to check if I was ready before shoving their dicks into me." She squeezed her eyes shut, shuddering. "It hurt. It always physically hurt and no one cared. Their touch was always cold, they only went through motions for their own pleasure." Finally, she risked a look at him. His jaw had dropped in horror, wide eyes forming tears of their own. "It was very obvious to me the difference when I was with you that night. You always respected my wants, you treated my body with reverence. Every look, every touch screamed love. Even the way you said my name…no. Especially the way you said my name."

Stumbling, she got to her feet. "But I suppose I can't expect you to stop lying to me if you can't even stop lying to yourself." She turned and began walking away, roughly rubbing the moisture from her eyes. "I swear THOM, lying is all you know how to do." Her voice dripped venom as she slinked back into the shadows away from him.

He knew as he watched her go that he was the worst person in all of Thedas. Though he had been telling himself that for years, he never believed as strongly as he did in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Malika never really allowed herself to be honest about how dark her past was and it all came out pretty violently. I know some people imagine the Cadash character as having family in the Cadash branch of the Carta or doing light thievery. Personally, I feel that as a Carta agent constantly on the move, her family was of minimal importance to her, and in turn that made her particularly vulnerable to this kind of abuse within the organization. This is a major reason why I always pair my Cadash with Blackwall: they have both seen this deep darkness and they both try to hide it from each other, but in the end no one understands them quite like their lover.


	9. Transition and Anticipation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After her catharsis, Malika is left with a big decision. For me, it was a no brainer to save him in the least invasive way possible. Honestly, there was no way I was leaving him to give up on himself! Some people got really angry, felt betrayed, and let him rot, but I can't help but be an empathizer. I can also give plenty of reasons, but that comes in the next chapter when they have the official trial. At any rate, I didn't like the options to get him out of jail. They all seemed so shady and I knew he wouldn't approve of them, besides which my Inquisition's reputation would suffer. I wished the solution I present here was a thing, because I don't see why it couldn't work.

She hadn't consciously decided to seek help, but lost in a myriad of conflicted and bitter emotions after leaving the prison, her feet took her to the palace of Orlais while staying in the shadows of side streets and alleys. Being out of sight was an instinct from her Carta days, and it served her well now when any sight of her would cause gossip. She stood at the gate, finally seeing where she had ended up, and began to contemplate what she could…what she would…do.

The obvious choice would be to leave him to his fate. Killing a man for gold was one thing she understood too well, but killing his family because he could not admit to his crime, running away and leaving those who trusted him to die… Surely she was not as reprehensible as that even before the Inquisition took her. And lying to her one more time after all his previous lies came to light…what a personal slap to the face. He himself knew death was what he deserved. By all rights she should despise him for the countless sins he had committed. But…

She ended up here at the palace to do something. Her heart was not content to have it end with his execution before a huge, hate-filled mob even if it was logical, even after all the hurt he had caused her and everyone else in the group. He had always insisted he was not worthy of anything, especially her love. The guilt he had been carrying explained all of those types of statements she had never understood until now. He always knew what a monster he had been; he was not a dangerous criminal any longer, but a broken shell of a man drowning in his sorrow, using lies to keep himself going. And that statement in the prison, about never loving her… The only reason he would say something so hurtful was to make her mad enough to remove her connection to him, one he never truly felt he deserved and tried to break off on multiple occasions out of duty. He wanted to save her from getting close to the horrible man he knew himself to be, though he undoubtedly wished to be close to her. There had to be a way to make it right, for him to earn redemption through honest means rather than lies. He was capable, she knew it deep down. She knew if she asked it of him, he would. He would do anything for her even though his attempts so far had been sorely misguided.

So, what would she do? How would she address him? How would she judge him if given the chance? She could not arrange her thoughts into specifics, not right now, but at the very least she had to buy time. She didn't even have a plan to do that much. Normally, Josephine, Cullen, or Leliana came up with plans. But to tell them what she was thinking…she knew they would strongly disapprove, chastise her for compromising their group on a whim, and for what, a criminal? And heaven forbid Leliana with her spying ways knew just how far their relationship had developed! But they did not know him the way she did. In fact, no one probably did. If she was going to do something, it had to be as an individual, not the leader of the Inquisition. And what bargaining power did she have with those in charge of Val Royeaux? There was one thing. It was crazy and audacious, breaking every rule of that accursed game, but perhaps if she reminded the ruler of a personal debt to be paid, it would be enough.

That is how she came to be sitting across the table from Empress Celene herself. Apparently it had been worth it to cozy up to people during that horrible ball, because now she actually had a favor with the ruler of an empire, whose life she had saved personally. It was for that reason that she was able to get an audience without weeks of protocol, without going through advisors and messengers. One word to her trio of attendants had been sufficient.

"My dear Inquisitor, you look positively besides yourself. I suppose you need help from me for some personal matter, am I correct?"  
"What makes you say that, my grace?" she blinked, embarrassed.

"You would have gone through Josephine if it had been official Inquisition business, no? But don't worry. Not only did you save my life, but you helped reunite me with Briala, something which I feel a great deal of gratitude for. If it is within my power, I will aid you however I can. Now tell me, what troubles you?"

She sighed. "Thom Ranier. I'm sure by now news has reached you."

The empress's eyes flashed a knowing look behind her mask. "Ah yes, the man you were calling Blackwall, one of the Inquisition's inner circle. And if I recall the rumors correctly, the only man you danced with at the ball…"

Memories stirred of his strong arm reaching down to her waist to hold her close, compensating for the height difference, and the other hand taking hers with more gentleness than she had believed possible for the gruff man. "Y-yes, the false Blackwall, it would seem. I still can't believe something like that got past Leliana…" she blushed. "It seems he did something very horrible a great many years ago. It sounds like a whole different person than the man I know, but it is true."

"My dear, lovers can be a dangerous thing. Even when you think you know them, they can turn on you. You have my sympathies in this matter, but I have the feeling you are not content with the current outcome."

Malika folded her hands. "That is why I did not tell anyone else. It really isn't Inquisition business, just something I wish to pursue."

"But Lady Inquisitor, he paraded around in your organization branding himself a Warden. You were deceived, and he injured your reputation by doing so. Besides, think of the contracts he procured for you as a Warden that were actually void. This deception cost you, aside from his original crimes. If you were to request him, we could find cause to extradite him to Skyhold for a trial."

"That would be ideal, Majesty," she admitted, twitching anxiously. "To be completely frank, I know he won't have a trial in Orlais, it will essentially be a lynch mob. And, no one would believe me because no one would care, but he is a different man, truly. I…don't know how to convey it."

"Well you will need to be able to justify letting him live. I would hate to see you burn your own organization out of misjudgment based on infatuation. You have come too far for that. Now, let's consider our points in his defense. Has he caused any harm to anyone within the Inquisition while he has been a part?"

"No, Your Excellency, never once. He has only helped. He doesn't even sleep in a room in the castle, he sleeps out in the stable. When he isn't helping to train soldiers or out in the field, he helps around the stables and carves toys for the children." She stopped, biting her lip. "I still can't believe he killed for gold… He lives his life so humbly."

"Very well, so you might say that he demonstrated repentance through acts that countered his original greed. One might say he is paying a debt to society through his actions. That is worth more than one more death, no matter how deserved, don't you agree?"

She nodded somberly. "Absolutely.

"And he turned himself in to protect a fellow soldier, did he not? That initiative might earn a less severe punishment, as it demonstrates a change in character."

"Yes, certainly."

"Now," the empress rose, "You must simply be in control of your words during the trial. You have enough to justify bringing him to Skyhold, and you have enough to justify sparing his life on conditions. You simply have to show those watching that you HAVE a reason and are not simply biased out of love. Not easy, I can assure you." The empress nodded to her and began to leave the room. "I will have the jailers send him to Skyhold within the week and post notice to the citizens. I do not envy you for what you will have to do, dear. Be strong, or this will blow up in your face."

Malika rose from her spot as well and bowed so deeply her head nearly hit the floor. "I am so very grateful to you, your Majesty. It means everything to me that you would help me in this."

"What can I say, dear? I understand what you feel. Briala betrayed me, yet here we are now together, moving forward instead of dwelling on our mistakes in the past. You helped make that possible. I am only returning the favor."

Malika turned to go, but the Empress had one more comment. "And don't think I don't remember what Rainier's crime was. He was responsible for the death of one of my greatest supporters. Treason against his Empress. He is fortunate to have been part of the team that saved my life in Halamshiral…" She then floated out of the room, leaving Malika red in the face.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

"A wagon approaches!" the sentries cried. "Bearing the symbol of Val Royeaux. Open the gates!"

Cassandra, who was training in the yard, stopped mid-swing. "From Val Royeaux? What in Andraste's name could that be about?" she sheathed the weapon and headed to the gates. She was not the only one drawn to the commotion. Cullen sprinted down the ramparts to join her, his face completely shocked.

"You are not going to believe what they are delivering, Cassandra," he said nervously, as if expecting her to blow up as soon as she found out. "I recommend you take a few calming breaths…"

"What are you going on about Cullen?" At that moment, the wagon pulled through the main gate, revealing its contents: one disheveled, bearded false-Warden in chains. He was staring at the ground, bracing himself for the accusations he knew would start flying the minute they saw his traitor face. He was not wrong. "What is HE doing here?" Cassandra fairly screeched, her face flushing with anger. "He should have been dead and buried by now, not getting delivered onto our laps!"

The driver of the wagon looked incredibly nervous after this outburst. His attendant, only slightly braver, hopped down and timidly approached Cassandra. "Seeker Cassandra, a delivery from Orlais. It has been decided that Thom Rainier stand trial with the Inquisition where he caused the more recent harm."

"How convenient," Cassandra glared at Rainier, "she handed him over to us so we could kill him ourselves…"

"Would you chill out, Cassandra?!" Varric interrupted, having heard the commotion and come running to investigate. "The way you talk, he killed somebody last week, not 10 years ago. We're not talking Corypheus level of evil here!"

"At least Corypheus is up front about his evil!" she snarled in response.

The messenger continued to look uncomfortable. "U-uh, ma'am, I don't mean to interrupt, but where would you like me to leave the prisoner?"

"Well…" Cullen stuttered, "You can, uh, bring him to the other side of the courtyard near the prison entrance I suppose…" Then under his breath, he muttered, "The sooner he's behind bars the better; he'll be safe from us there…"

"I am getting Josephine right now!" Cassandra started to storm off. "This requires some answers!"

At that moment, the woman burst through the keep's door, looking uncharacteristically flustered. She was followed by Sera and Cole. Sera looked amused by the chaos unfolding, shaking her head and smirking. Cole looked more serious, and he started to disappear as he felt the eyes on him.

"Cassandra, calm down! They told me what has happened, and I assure you, I have no idea what is going on any more than you do!" the woman insisted as she drew closer.  
"You're telling me you had no hand in negotiating an extradition to Skyhold?" the warrior demanded.

Josephine shook her head, baffled. "Could it be they simply decided to send him here because of his current affiliation?"

While they discussed this and the messengers shuffled their feet waiting for some clear signal, the hulking form of Iron Bull slipped behind them with a mug in his hand. "Hey there, you look like you could use a drink," he offered, slipping the mug through the bars. For the first time, Blackwall looked up.

"You're really here offering me a drink after everything?" he growled skeptically, ignoring the gesture.

Bull shrugged. "The lying was annoying, though I knew you were doing it the whole time, but you're no bad guy. Ben Hassereth training, remember? I read people."

He stared. "Can it really be that simple?"

"Sure it can," Varric siddled over. "Luckily you're out of Orlais where the people despise anything simple. By the way, what do you know about that?"

He shook his head. "They didn't tell me anything, just that I was leaving for Skyhold. I have no idea why, and quite honestly, Cassandra was right, I should be dead and buried by now."

"Don't talk like that, Cadash is going to wring your….wait. Where is Cadash?" Varric stopped, finally noticing that the one person who should be there most was conspicuously absent.

"Hiding from me, I'm sure," he sighed, burying his head in his hands.

At that moment, the messenger suddenly had his own realization. He noticed that Cassandra, Cullen and Josephine were busy with their own conversation, so he turned to the less occupied pair behind him. "I-I'm sorry, I nearly forgot. I was also supposed to deliver this message. It is for your Inquisitor's eyes only, from the Empress…"

"Ooh, good stuff!" a high-pitch voice squealed. A swift hand grabbed it from the messenger and the owner scaled to the top of the wagon out of reach to begin tearing the envelope open.  
The poor delivery boy opened his eyes wide in horror. "Uh, miss? Please, that's not…"

Her cackling interrupted him. "Ooh, this is proper rich, this is! Like gossip between school-girls!"

"Let me see that!" Cassandra's militant voice reached them. She had apparently overheard the last part.

"Sure. Good reads!" she tossed the letter down to the older woman, who read it.

A few lines in and she began to grit her teeth. "I will not discuss the contents here in public, but we need to have a meeting immediately in the war room." She cast Thom a killing glare. "If this organization falls apart because of you, so help me Andraste…" She stalked off, Josephine right behind looking very confused. Cullen turned back to the wagon and looked over the motley crew surrounding it.

"Will you all just step back? This is a prisoner, not a friend here for a visit!" he snapped, rubbing his temples. "Right this way, gentlemen. I do apologize for the circus, this has been most unexpected." Nodding silently, the messenger got back on the wagon and they drove further in.

Sera waved brightly. "I'll bring you some decent eats Blackier, Rainwall, err, whatever you are called!"

He was completely baffled. Cassandra and the advisors acted the way he had expected, but his comrades, the ones that he took to the field with most often, they acted as if nothing had changed. As distance was put between them, he heard one more thing of interest.

"Why are you so chipper about this whole thing?"

"Well, it's not like he's going to DIE or anything, right? I mean, you think the Inquisitor is going to have his bloody head on a platter? We'll probably see him in the tavern tonight yet."

His stomach flipped. He hadn't expected this, that she would turn heaven and earth in order to spare him. Maker knew she was mad enough at him, especially after how their conversation in the jail ended. Cassandra's words were even clearer now: if she destroyed the reliability of the organization just to save him… She would damn herself alongside him.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Varric stopped by his cell a few hours later, plopping on a bench opposite him. "Can I hang out in there with you? It's probably safer than out here with Cassandra breathing fire."

"Varric, what is going on?" Blackwall pleaded. "I was ready to die and own up for everything, so why am I here, still very much alive while everyone looks at me like I'm darkspawn?"

"Well, I probably shouldn't tell you this, but Cassandra's mad enough at me the way it is. Can't really get any angrier in fact. So, I got dragged into that war room with the inner circle and the first thing they asked was 'What did the Inquisitor do while you were in Val Royeaux?' I naturally responded that I was not the grown Inquisitor's babysitter, which didn't go over well with them. They really need to relax. Anyhow…hey, before I go on, question for you. Did she actually go visit you in prison?"

He nodded soberly.

"How long?"

He frowned at the memory of their argument. "About ten minutes before she stormed out."

"Ah. Well, that might explain some things. See, she didn't come back until a good five hours later. What was she doing during that time? It would seem she gained an audience with Empress Celene herself."

He groaned, holding his head in his hands. "Maker, why would she do that?! She's going to drag the Inquisition down with her…"

Varric actually started to chuckle. "Well, actually, and this boggles poor Josie's mind quite a bit, it sounds like the Empress was far from offended by her request. In fact, in the letter, the Empress was giving her advice for the trial like some doting aunt or something."

Even he had to chuckle at this. "Malika is a unique woman, there's no denying. Only someone like her could ignore the rules of the Game and talk with an empress." Just as quickly, he stopped. "I don't deserve any of that, I deserve to die."

"Well, I hate to break it to you, but Sera probably had a point. Unless our beloved leader suddenly gained a split personality, you're not going to die. You'll have to do something much harder: live it down." He stood up. "And that's the news update. I'll see you in the grand hall in an hour or so for the trial. Try not to look too much like a murderer. No brooding or any of that."

"Varric!" The dwarf stopped in his tracks. "I…I'm sorry. To everyone, but very much to you. You've always treated me fairly, and even now, after everything, you're still treating me better than I deserve. I appreciate it more than I can express."

"Heh, what can I say? Your ability to weave a tale leaves me humbled!" he winked. "Besides, anyone without a head up their own ass, who spent any amount of time with you, would know that you are currently a good man who handled the situation in the worst way possible. Especially with Cadash."

He sighed. "I wanted to protect her from the truth…"

Varric shook his head. "There's your problem in a nutshell, Hero." He backtracked to the bench and sat down again. "Despite however close you two were, you apparently still don't understand her very well. Let me clear it up for you. Cadash lived her life in the Carta. She's not some self-righteous hypocrite. Not once during this whole ordeal has she embraced the whole Herald bit. The truth would be difficult, but not impossible to handle, because she understands blood on one's hands. And like you, she's worked at making a different, better life for herself with this opportunity. What hurts her are lies, because, well…she's just craving for someone to tell it like it is for once in her life. To give her some credit. She's been manipulated for her entire career in the Carta, and when she finally feels in control, bam! You slammed that door in her face."

"I…" he stammered, turning bright red. "I didn't mean…"

"Look, I am confident the official trial will go well in your favor. Like I said, she errs on the side of forgiveness because of her own past. It's the post-trail with you and her alone that I can't predict. Will she be able to forgive what you did to her personally…"

"I'd…rather die than have to bear her grudge with me for the rest of my days…" he admitted quietly. "All I ever wanted was to protect her, not hurt her like this." He clenched his fists in anguish.

Varric gave a short chuckle. "You really do think like a Grey Warden despite not being one. You are so focused on your noble goal that sometimes you don't even see the harm you cause in pursuit of it. Protecting her does not mean sheltering her from harsh reality."

"Maker, she'll never look at me again…" he breathed, fighting back tears. "This really is worse than the gallows."

"You really do love her, don't you, Hero?" Varric studied his face carefully.

He gave a bitter laugh. "I'd say more than my own life, but that has very little meaning."

Varric looked thoughtful. "Do you love her enough to forgive yourself? That's the true test, and I'm sure if she does forgive you it is the first thing she will ask for in return. It's impossible to be in a relationship with someone who can't respect themselves."

He was silent. "That's…much harder to promise. It would take time…"

"But would you try?"

"If…if it made her happy, if I could see myself the way she seems to see me…perhaps."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Varric is such a bro, I love him. Out of all the companions, I see him being the closest to these two. Also, it was way too much fun imagining how everyone would react to his betrayal and the chaos that ensues.


	10. The Verdict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man this chapter was a pain in the butt to write, because it was essentially me writing a thesis as to why Blackwall should be freed. I am no expert in law but I like to think I know enough about logic to make this a valid argument. Anyway, what we got in the game was entirely unfulfilling, treated like any other two-bit minor antagonist instead of "Holy Andraste, this is our companion who has been lying to us this entire time and did really sketchy things in the past!" Because it gets so drawn out, I figured both the reader and our Inquisitor would need a break, so you get a bit of Cole dialogue to help break it up. Here we go...

"For judgement this day, Inquisitor, I must present Captain Thom Rainier, formerly known to us as Warden Blackwall." Josephine's voice echoed off the stone of the main hall. On cue, two guards dragged the seemingly lifeless man down the center aisle, his shackles clanking with each step. They stopped before the throne of the Inquisitor, who picked a spot just over their heads to focus on so her discomfort would not be noticeable. With a final shove, they pushed him before her and stood back. He only hung his head. "His crimes…well, you are aware of his crimes. The decision of what to do with him is yours." Bowing respectfully, she withdrew, leaving the Inquisitor, her lover, and every eye in the room fixed on them.

It would be a drama for the ages, or so the nobles in attendance thought, something to describe in great detail to their friends back home, a great piece of gossip. The leader of the Inquisition somehow handed one of her own inner circle for judgement… They could smell scandal; certainly some strings had been pulled to achieve this fortunate turn of events for Thom Rainier. Would she handle herself with dignity and pass fair judgement or blatantly flaunt a disregard for justice in favor of her subordinate?

The advisors and inner circle had other thoughts. Every one of them was curious, if not anxious, to know what their headstrong leader would do with their fellow member, fallen from grace. Though most did not realize the extent of their relationship together, it was understood that they had something going on between them, adding to their nerves. Cassandra, Josephine, and Cullen in particular looked like they would be physically sick and were standing on pins and needles waiting for her to say the wrong thing. She did her best to ignore them. Leliana, Vivian and Solas could not be read, their faces devoid of any emotion. That was almost equally unnerving, the cold looks they radiated. The Iron Bull, Sera, Dorian and Varric looked concerned for her, and had some equally concerned glances for him as well. As for Cole, who knew where he was? Probably floating around there somewhere reading people's thoughts…

She took a deep breath, sat up straight, folded her hands in her lap, and began the seemingly impossible task. "As per court procedure, the accused is allowed to say a few words on their own behalf before we begin sentencing."

"I deserve death," he stated simply, staring into the floor, then nothing more.

"A heavy statement, one the court should devote to memory. We'll get back to that in a second. To be efficient, we'll start with the earliest charges and work our way forwards through each offense until a final verdict is given. The Court of Orlais saw fit hand you over to us, and I intend to do right by them for their trust in the Inquisition. Let's begin with the Calliet incident.

"For those in attendance not familiar with the crime, Captain Thom Rainier accepted a sizeable sum of gold from Ser Robert Chapuis to have his men murder General Calliet and his guards. Chapuis hoped to gain the favor of Duke Gaspard by killing one of Celene's loyal supporters, and so commissioned the hit. Here is the first mistake in the entire ordeal: you do not hire a military captain to kill your enemies. Had he been playing the game correctly, an assassin specialized in hits would have been called in, and quite honestly, no one in Orlais would have been in such an uproar over the crime. It was unprofessional for Chapuis to use the route he did, and it resulted in the unintended deaths of Callier's wife and children along with his own. In a respect, the heart of the crime rests with Chapuis, who committed suicide shortly thereafter."

Before the crowd could react to this analysis, she quickly continued. "Of course, Rainier has a great deal of guilt in this affair, though the murder does not rest squarely on his shoulders. The crime specific to him is taking money in an unprofessional and under-the-table manner to do a job he had no business doing and was not capable of doing cleanly. A man of his profession and rank should never have gotten involved, and he disgraced his office by doing so. The punishment for this misconduct is clearly dishonorable discharge from the military of Orlais. As it stands, this has already been carried out." As the first sentencing was concluded, the courtroom buzzed with chatter. The Inquisitor had essentially given him a free pass while assigning the bulk of the blame on Chapuis for the death of the family? The few Orlesians in the crowd did shake their heads in understanding; they were all too familiar with the game, and her logic made sense to them. Even Josephine had to acknowledge her leader's insightful interpretation of the situation in Orlais, and silently praised her for using it to Blackwall's advantage.

He was frustrated along with the Fereldens in the room. As he had told her in the prison, game or no game, getting involved with killing Calliet was wrong and evil. The lenient sentence was a joke. "But I…!"  
"Silence!" she declared, glaring at him. "If you are not pleased with the lack of severity in the verdict, you can just wait; there are plenty more charges to address, Thom Rainier." He growled and continued staring at the floor.

She cleared her throat. "The act which he committed brings us to a more serious charge: treason. He acted against the Empress Celene when he agreed to murder one of her supporters, directly opposing the military which he was sworn to serve. In most cases, this would be a very cut-and-dry case of instant death. However, in the unusual circumstances of the Winter Ball of Halamshiral, Gaspard very nearly wrested control of Orlais from Empress Celene. Rainier could have thrown support with him in hopes of earning pardon, as his crime was carried out in support of Gaspard. However, he took up a sword along with a select group of Inquisition Circle Members and prevented the death of the Empress with his own two hands, drawing blood from her enemies to keep her alive and on the throne. This demonstrates a clear regret, and a making of amends for his past action against the throne. While we of the Inquisition may be rewarded for the part we played, he shall receive no special payments or privileges with the rest of us; his reward for his service to the throne of Orlais is his life." This at least made more sense for all of the people gathered. It was a stretch, and they wondered what she would have done if Halamshiral had never happened, but it did no good to speculate.

Her collected expression began to darken. "Perhaps the most heinous of the crimes we will describe today in court is the next: the betrayal of the men under his command, letting them take the fall for him. They were not told of the circumstances behind their mission, they simply carried out their orders unknowingly. When the truth came out, Rainier was long gone, leaving his men who had sullied their swords with the Calliet family's blood to answer for the crime in a society desperate for justice. Though they protested they had not known, they were tried and executed all the same without his confession. Even more so than the family's blood, it is his soldier's blood that stains his hands." For the first time, she grew silent. Muttering could be heard from the nobles, and everyone within the Inner Circle who knew her and knew him held their breath, wondering what verdict she would pass on this.

Having refocused her thoughts, she breathed deeply. "Dying is easy. You remember how quickly he requested it when given a chance to speak? That is because as long as he lives, he hurts. He feels the guilt weighing on him. He understands the gravity of his crime and believes there is no way possible to atone except for his life. Living takes courage, and as we all know from his actions, Thom Rainier was not one for courage. Now I assure everyone, if this crime were committed with the deliberate intention of seeing them die, a pre-mediated murder, I would never let him see the light of day." Her eyes grew hard and her frown severe. "But what led to their deaths was not ill-will, but cowardice, fleeing from responsibility. Recklessness, thinking he wouldn't be caught." She steadied herself. "Most of us here know how justice finally caught up with him, and while it may be convenient for us to forget, the truth of the matter is that after living his life running away like a coward, he finally showed bravery when he walked into Val Royeaux and stopped the execution of one of his remaining soldiers. There is hope.

"Most everyone in the room will wonder then, if he does not die, how will the deaths of his soldiers be avenged? When I say everyone, I mean everyone, right down to Rainier himself." She looked him square in the eye for the first time, and it took all the strength she had. "Adding corpses to the pile does not make anything better, or equal. Neither does running free. Neither does rotting in jail. Lives cannot be replaced. But, meeting every one of those families that you tore apart, telling them the truth, letting them curse you and beat you, showing them just how sorry you truly are… that may be the only way for them to heal, and it may be the only way for you to heal as well. It is going to hurt like hell, but it is the only true justice there can be. In addition, for loss of primary breadwinners for these families, he will need to make financial reparations. We will discuss those specifics a bit later. Right now, I declare a ten minute break. Have him escorted to the war room to wait, please." With that, she rose, and with as much composure as possible despite how shaky she really was, she exited the main hall for her quarters, leaving a stunned audience.

As the soldiers led him away, he could hear the talk already starting. "I knew she wouldn't sentence him to death. How can she justify letting a monster like that live?" "I don't know, she justified it very well. If she has bias, she's not letting it show in her thought process…" "But she can justify a means to the end she desired. She won't allow him to die!" "I heard the Empress herself allowed the Inquisitor to hold this trial; surely she wouldn't do that if she knew the Inquisitor was not going to be fair…" "Everyone is corrupt! The Inquisition is no better than anyone else!" And as he walked, he felt the eyes burn into him, filled with contempt, though a few held pity. His face did not turn red for himself though, it was only for his lady who was sticking her neck out for him. She really was doing a good job of appearing in control, of making every decision seem logical and fair, but he knew why she had called the break: she was losing that control as she discussed his crimes. He wasn't a very religious man, but he found himself praying to the Maker, Andraste, anyone who would listen, that she would not burn herself trying to save him from the fire. Not for scum like him…

On the other side of the door, she sat on the stone steps and took several deep breaths, nearly losing tears in the process. She knew it was going to be hard, but this…this took superhuman strength. She had spent the past week, ever since she had met with Celene, contemplating which crimes to accuse him of and how to sentence him, not to mention how to validate her decisions. She poured over his case, researched Orlais and the game for precedents, even flipped through Skyhold's copies of Andrastrian scripture for ways to back up her decisions. She had never researched anything so thoroughly in her life; it was one thing she could not leave to instinct. More than anything now, she was tired. She was trying to carry out her duties like nothing had happened while also devoting her every other waking thought to Blackwall and how she could save him. And no matter what she said, all he kept saying was that he deserved to die. Why did she even bother?

Suddenly, a gentle voice began to chant: "Exhausted, spent, no room to think, no room to cry. What for? Why should I care? I could just give him what he wants, but I don't want that. I want him. I shouldn't…"

"Cole…" she warned, rubbing her head. "I don't need this right now…"

"Why? Why does she kill herself over me? I want her safe, I want her to smile like she did in the moonlight surrounded by hay. Let go of me so you can be happy. A lady shouldn't cry for me."

She looked up at the form materializing beside her. "Let me guess, you've been poking around in his head too?"

"Not poking, prying, the thoughts scream out at me, like a speech meant to be heard. The feelings are strong though the words won't be spoken."

"It's a real mess, isn't it?" she sighed, fidgeting with her hands.

"A tangled mess, but the knot at the center is strong and the two ends will not be pulled apart. He loves you, and you love him. Everything else just gets in the way, but every tangle is unraveled with patience."  
"You make it sound so simple…" she murmured.

"It can be as simple or as complicated as you decide it should be," he nodded, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I want to make people happy. I want to make you happy. But right now I think the only one who can do that is him."

Finally, she gave a small smile. "Oddly enough, you are actually helping, Cole. Thank you. Though…" she paused in thought, "…if you could peer into other people's thoughts, that means you knew who he was all along. And you didn't say anything?"

"I talked to him about it, but I don't talk to other people," he said seriously. "Just like I haven't told anyone that you…"

"Ah ha ha, that's enough Cole, I get it," she held up her hands. "I feel violated somehow, but at least you keep it to yourself. Thanks."

"Of course. Now, are you ready to finish? The hardest part is done."

Yes, I suppose I am. Let's go."

She pushed open the door, finding Cole had disappeared into thin air once more. All heads snapped in her direction, watching every move she made as she calmly sat in her throne once more. "Bring him back out and we will finish." A soldier in the audience nodded, entering a side door, and reappearing with his fellow guards and the prisoner. This time, instead of looking down, he looked at her, worry evident on his face. She gave a brave smile before turning her attention back to the crowd.

"We will now move on to the issue of Thom Rainier's false identity as Warden Blackwall. To begin, I must inform the court that I personally went to an unmarked grave on the Storm Coast escorted by Thom Rainier himself where I observed the remains of several darkspawn and a single human skeleton. I did not know it at the time, but now I realize that this was in fact the real Warden Blackwall, evidenced by the Gray Warden badge found buried in the grass near the bodies. This matches the story Rainier gave me in prison regarding how he came to meet the good Warden and how Blackwall died. I tell the court this to clarify that Gordon Blackwall was NOT murdered to assume the identity, but rather died in the line of duty with Thom Rainier present, as he was to be recruited.

"How do I know the recruitment part of the story is true? There may never be proof, but to me, why else did a single Grey Warden and an uninitiated member battle darkspawn? To receive the blood necessary for the Joining ritual. In that sense, Thom Rainier's claims to be a Warden were only partially untrue. He learned the more basic truths of the order from Blackwall, and went to get the blood for the Joining. The only reason he did not officially become a Warden was due to Blackwall's unfortunate death. He could have gone to Weisshaput, but would they have taken his word to have been recruited? Would they have assumed guilt in Blackwall's death? He put on the armor and left the site of the attack a Warden in spirit at any rate. This is further evidenced by the speech he delivered to the Wardens at Adamant; upon hearing his words to them spoken like a true Warden, many lives were saved as they turned away from their erroneous actions. Perhaps the Joining is a mere formality. It gives powers and weaknesses, but if the heart is in the right place as it clearly was, well, who's to say he wasn't one?

Now, undoubtedly some people will. This organization will have to deal with our apparently invalid demands for reparations using Warden contracts we assumed we could have due to our "Warden" member of the Inquisition. It will be a sticky situation to handle every group who provided goods in good faith. We can only hope they see reason for donation, being that the sky is currently being torn apart by rifts, but if they do not we will have to pay them back or get permission straight from Weisshaupt for the contracts. This will be a huge headache for Josephine, and any wrath she or the groups we got contracts from will be incurred on Thom Rainier as they see fit. In the meantime, for waving around a title never officially given, Thom Rainier will need to communicate his use of the title and his actions while using it to the officials of the order in Weisshaupt. Any punishment they see fit will be awarded by them.

"And lastly, the using of a false name. It is an interesting case. Most often, stolen identity is used to take goods illegally or ruin a reputation. Neither holds true in this case. Thom Rainier hid behind the name but did not slander it, only added to the good reputation of the original owner who had died in battle. It was a lie, one that has injured our organization to the core." She looked around at her advisors and teammates, who despite whatever viewpoints they held all nodded in agreement. "It injured the very reputation of our organization. However, the fact remains that as far as lies go, it was not done out of malicious intent. The lie was in words, but in action and deed he never did wrong by us, only stood and defended this organization. Due to lack of any slander, subterfuge, or any ill-intentioned action associated with the false name, it really is not a matter to be tried in a court of law. Amends for the deceit will be handled on a personal basis. Until amends have been made to all parties injured by the deceit, he is removed from the inner circle of the Inquisition and demoted to base rank." At that she shot him a pointed look, causing him to bow his head meekly.

"In conclusion, the man known as Thom Rainier has in many respects already died. Cowardice morphing to courage. Selfishness into selflessness. Lies turning to confession. Arrogance now self-depreciation. A long road still lies ahead, but he will walk that path to make amends for his crimes as he has already begun to do. I understand how many here today struggle with this verdict. Perhaps you were one of those personally wronged by this man. If that is true, there are two things you need to keep in mind." Slowly, she rose from her throne, meeting the hard gaze of the entire room.

"The first is that the Inquisitor herself was once a hardened criminal before receiving Andraste's mercy. I would hope you see the change between then and now as I work to live a better life, one of service to others." Many in the crowd were not shy about whispering commentary in front of her face at this admission. Her advisors were clenching their hands and grimacing; this was a subject they had purposely tried to gloss over when talking about their leader, the Herald of Andraste. She ignored them, and looked right at Rainier. Her next words left him shocked, eyes wide. "Second, you should know that I take full responsibility for my verdict today. The guilt will be mine for any further crime he commits and punishment will be handed to me alongside him if he strays." Her gaze went back to the crowds, now gaping as well. Her advisors more accurately were about ready to pass out from dismay. "This is how firmly I believe in my rulings. Now, court is dismissed. Guards, release him."

She did not stick around to hear the talk, nor to see him released from his chains. Just as before, she ducked into the hallway leading to her quarters. It was finished, and now she just needed time to think. After all, there was still her personal trial left…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely HATED how he brought up their relationship in the middle of that courtroom. No way he would embarrass the both of them like that. In my version, he is definitely going to wait until they are alone to discuss personal matters (and Maker knows they have plenty to discuss there...).


	11. Shattered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned, the confrontation about their relationship should have happened behind closed doors. Also, I feel that Blackwall would (and needs to) completely break before they could move forward. The depression and anxiety were to me always a part of him that he didn't show anyone because "surely Blackwall wouldn't have anything like that". I feel very strongly that lies were not just about saving his skin, but his own sanity.

The door to her chambers creaked open. She had been waiting since before the sun had set, curled up on the couch in front of the fireplace, alone with her thoughts, and she didn't turn around even as heavy footsteps thudded closer to where she was. There was no doubt in her mind who it was; she had been expecting him. She said nothing. The ball was in the other court at this point, and she had to know what he would say now that they were finally alone.

He stopped behind the couch but made no move to catch her eye. His voice was low, weak, defeated. "You told me you wanted to know everything I have been withholding, but I never did get a chance to finish. I suppose that's the best place to start." She nodded, so he began.

"The first thing you need to know is that no matter what anyone thinks, I did not take the real Blackwall's identity to steal the honor that went with it, nor did I ever rest on his laurels without adding to his legacy. It is true that at first I was scared, and wanted nothing more than to hide from the world that day I put on his armor and took up his sword. I thought I had found my means to escape my old life by joining him, but I found myself face to face with his dead body instead. I couldn't go to Weisshaupt like I intended, afraid they would pin his murder on me. Wardens are solitary, mysterious… He told me just enough that I could probably pass as one, and no one would ask questions. It was my out, and that I am not proud of. But I also knew…just what I told you in prison. He should have been the one to live, his life was so much more important and valuable than the utter waste and ruin mine had become. Even though he was the one dead, Thom Rainier would be cast aside to give his good name an extended life. Blackwall could survive. From then on, I did my best to live the life I thought he would have, helping where I could while staying out of sight.

"Yes, I get that. Changing your identity kept you hidden but it also kept you morally accountable and held you to a higher standard of conduct. I don't really have a problem with that. I'm still waiting for you to explain why you felt you couldn't tell me, even though you were comfortable enough sleeping with me," she said crossly, still refusing to look at him. "Did you think I would be unreasonable? Did you not trust me? Did you WANT me to love a lie because the real you was beyond love?" Her voice unconsciously escalated in volume.

"My lady, I…" he began to falter.

"And don't call me that! Not after all that you have done to me!" she snapped.

He winced at the sting of those words, as if they were a physical blow. "Listen, I didn't keep the truth from you because I thought you would like me more for it. Or anyone else in this damned Inquisition either. I am ashamed that I hid my secrets from the people closest to me, but the real reason was nothing so petty as trying to be more popular!"

"Why?!" she challenged tersely, digging her nails into her thighs. "Or don't you have a reason for stringing me along like a fool?"

She could sense his hands clench the edge of the sofa behind her, mirroring the tension in his voice. "I lied to them just like I lied to myself for one reason: to survive. You have to understand this. As long as I was Blackwall, I could live with myself. 'You are Blackwall, you are a good man,' I repeated over and over. 'You deserve to keep drawing breath because you try to help people.' His speech was becoming rapid, panicked. "I couldn't be Rainier. I hate Rainier. He was…I was…a horrible human being, scum, worse than trash. What I did…what happened because of me… At night I close my eyes and hear the screams of those children, feel the blood on my hands. I did that…innocent people dead because I wanted more wealth. And my men…looking so confused, doing as I told them despite their misgivings and disbelief. I see them swinging from the noose because they obeyed my orders. I did that. Thom Rainier did that. If I can't be Blackwall, that's the person I'm left with and…I can't live with it!" A choked sob wracked his body. "I hate everything about the man I was, it makes me sick. Calling myself Blackwall and living like he would… it was the only way…" He could form no more words as he fell to his knees shaking and letting tears finally fall while doing his best to hold in the sobs.

At this point, she whipped around to see what had happened to him, and her eyes widened to see what a wreck he had become. She wanted to call his name, but didn't even know how to address him anymore. "I never…thought about it that way…" she whispered, the edge vanished from her voice. In fact, hearing his brutally honest speech of self-hatred accompanied by an emotional breakdown sucked all of the wrath from her in an instant. It could be an act, but…Rainier, Blackwall, no matter the persona, did not cry. He never left himself emotionally vulnerable; he was too proud. This was no display meant for pity, because he reviled pity. "Maybe none of us have thought about it this way. I was so focused on feeling victimized, I didn't consider…"

"No more lies, even if it helps me get through this. I won't…won't hurt you…or my friends…I AM NOT BLACKWALL NO MATTER HOW I WANT TO BE!" He curled into himself, burying his face in his rough hands. Suddenly, he began to spasm, and she noticed to her distress that he had indeed stopped drawing breaths in his anxiety attack.

"Thom, Blackwall, whatever you want me to call you, BREATHE, DAMN IT!" she shouted, flying from her spot on the couch and shaking him. When he refused to respond, she delivered a sharp blow to his face. This shocked him into gasping for air. She wrapped her arms around him without thinking and pulled him to her chest as he continued to fall apart. "You've carried this burden for far too long, haven't you?" she murmured, rubbing his back. "I never realized... Now that I see it, I don't think any sentence I could give you could be worse than the torture you have been giving yourself. Let it all go. I'm right here, and we can figure this out together." Slowly, she rocked him back and forth as he expelled countless years'-worth of pain, shame, and guilt in a massive tidal wave. It did not subside quickly.

Several minutes later, when she noticed his breathing even out and the shaking calm, she pulled away, and he looked up, following her with lost, tear-stained eyes. It was absolutely pitiful to see the once proud, valiant warrior reduced to this broken man, but then again, this was what he always felt on the inside, under the mask. Her normally guarded heart shattered along with him. "Come lie down and rest," she instructed quietly. "You've had enough for a lifetime, much less one day." Grabbing his arm, she hauled him to his feet and led him to the bed, the man following lifelessly with eyes glassed over. She sat on the edge and patted the space next to her. He stared, another string of stray tears rolling down his cheeks and disappearing into his beard. She gave an encouraging nod and he finally obeyed.  
Calmly, she bent down and removed his boots. He simply sat there, numb, and let her work. Then, she slid her hands under his shirt and pulled it up over his head. Without thinking, he raised his arms, though she had to get up on the bed in order to get it off. Planting a serene kiss on his neck, she began to rub his shoulders. "Has it died down now? I know it won't ever go away, but has it retreated?"

His voice was shaky. "Why? Why are you…"

"You are a different man than the Thom Rainier of your past," she explained softly. "I didn't just sell that story to the court for convenience, I sincerely believe that. And I am going to get you to believe that too. After all, I'm starting to think you never truly were Blackwall, you just tried to imitate his beliefs. When you told stories about greased cheese-wheels or talked about getting a dog someday, or even argued about jousting with Varric, that was Thom Rainier. That was YOU. But at the same time it was a more humble, compassionate, noble you because of the man who inspired you. That's okay, that's all anyone asks for, you know. You seem to think you can only be one or the other, but that isn't how it works. Anyhow, you'll need help. If your sentence is to live a life of atonement, I will be by your side to help you shoulder it. When I passed that sentence, I made myself responsible for you, and I take that very seriously."

"I don't…" he stopped. He knew if he finished that sentence, he would be scolded.

She knew what he was thinking, and her voice became melancholy. "You always used to tell me that, and I never understood what you meant. Now I do. And now, because I understand, you need to take my answer and not dismiss it any longer. We have all gotten things we don't deserve. Life would be horribly cruel without mercy and compassion. I know my life would not look like this if people weren't willing to look past and move on." She paused. "There's more to it than that, but I don't want to go there tonight." Her hands dropped from his shoulders and down his back, tracing the outlines of old scars. "First we need to get you back on your feet. I can wait."

Despite how much he wanted to hear what she wished to say, his eyelids were growing heavy. "No, not for long. You've taken on my burdens in addition to all that you already have. I will not let you shoulder yours alone. Tomorrow…"

"Tomorrow…" she whispered into his ear. For the first time in days, the corners of his lips turned upwards. Finally at some semblance of peace, he spun his legs onto the bed and laid down, closing his eyes. He hadn't slept well in weeks. Scooting over to make room, she ran a hand over his cheek. "Sleep. We'll figure it out in the morning."

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

The next morning, he stirred as the sun greeted his eyes, peering over the mountain peaks outside her window. He groaned and rolled over, but was then surprised to find himself tangled in a quilt. Opening his eyes, he realized where he was: Malika's bed. He had fallen asleep in her bed? Oh Maker, there was going to be talk… Even before everything blew up he had never spent a night in her quarters, and after how the trial ended, this would cause a hundred times the gossip. He bolted up and scanned the room for her. She was asleep on the couch, her dwarf-size being just the right fit to be comfortable on it. She hugged a blanked over herself, but otherwise seemed quite content.

Sighing, he swung his legs over the bed. He should go. He'd bothered her enough with his emotional breakdown last night, and just thinking about it embarrassed him. Since the incident, he had been an introverted man, never letting anyone in, never letting anyone see just how much pain he was feeling. He knew that talking through his feelings had been necessary; in fact, the woman who had spared his life demanded as much, and he had no business denying her. Still…whatever pride he had left, that part of him that told him he had to be strong, took a blow.

As he snatched his boots and padded to the door, a voice caused him to jump. "Where do you think you're going?" One green eye opened, investigating.

"M-my lady. I…" he stammered, caught completely off guard.

"You're not leaving until we get you cleaned up." She sat up, yawning and stretching.

"But I'm just going to get dirty in the stables…"

"There's some old grime that doesn't need to be there anymore. Not if we're starting clean." She got up and grabbed his hand, leading him to the bathroom off of her main chamber. There she had a basin filled with water, as well as a pitcher also filled and a washrag. Grabbing the cloth and dipping it in the basin, she sat him down on a chair and began wiping his face carefully. She could still see the paths of his tears against the dirt on his face as she brushed under his eyes. It had to go. "I have half a mind to just dunk your head in a bucket of water you know," she shook her head smiling. Then, she scrubbed his neck, making her way down his chest. It wasn't supposed to be sensual, yet somehow the way her fingers caressed his neck and chest, removing the stains of his corruption, made him want to stop her and kiss her. He restrained himself; it was hardly the time, and they had a long way to go before they would ever, if ever, be that intimate again.

After accomplishing this, the water was already dirty. "See? You needed it. The prison dirt is gone!" She took the basin, opened the window, and flung it out. Then, she filled it again with the water in the pitcher. "OK, maybe I was serious about the beard. Lean over." He obeyed, submerging his chin in the chilled water. She reached in and ran her fingers through his beard, massaging his chin and working through the tangles that had developed without proper grooming behind bars. Satisfied, she set the rag down. "Now, would you like me to finish, or should I leave you in private to do so?" This earned a blush. She HAD seen all of him. In the dark… Still, given everything, it seemed a bit strange.

"I can handle it, thank you my lady," he bowed in gratitude.

When he emerged several minutes later, she noticed he had dumped the water over his head as well. Having patted it dry, it was lighter, not plastered to his head. He looked GOOD. He walked over to her, and she reached up for his face. Of course, he had to bend down slightly for this to work, but he happily obliged. "You look a lot better. Inside and out," she observed, caressing his face.

"Apparently the Herald can work miracles," he replied shyly.

She studied his face carefully. "There's one more thing. If you let me. You don't have to…"

"It's my beard, isn't it?"

"Not all of it. It's just that…it's uneven. It makes you look like you've been wandering around in the wilderness for fifteen years or so." She paused. "I don't want to sound shallow or unappreciative, but you are not a wanderer anymore. You belong here, and I think you should…"

"Present myself as such? As you wish, my lady," he took her hand and held it to his cheek. "I will take care of it, I promise."

"Does it offend you?" she asked worriedly, a strange tone for the normally brash Inquisitor who could have demanded he jump off a cliff given his situation.

He looked into her eyes. "No. You fought hard to give me another chance, and I will not give people any more reason to talk if I can help it. I will clean it up."

"It's more than that though…"

"It's starting over, starting clean. I know what you are trying to get at, Malika. Now, I need to get to work. People need to see me doing things, earning my freedom. But later tonight we can continue our conversation…" He leaned over and awkwardly gave her a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek. Just as soon as he did, he looked apologetic. "I-I'm sorry, that was that crossing the line, wasn't it? I have no right…"

She sighed. "I should hate you. I should want to beat you senseless and kick you out on your ass, much less let you ever touch me again. ESPECIALLY after that 'I didn't love you' bullshit." He winced, bracing himself for a slap, verbal or physical. It never came. "But…" She reached for his hands and grasped them. "I…can't seem to stay angry, even if I do feel betrayed. It's hard to stay mad at someone after they show you just how broken they really are." He looked away, face turning red. "It's probably really stupid of me. Maybe I'm just too desperate after the way my life has been going so far, and I read too much into whatever we did in that stable. And maybe…you don't even realize how much you gave was actually the truth. We've got a lot to sift through before we can call this straightened out between us. But I intend to at least try. Just…hold off for now, okay?"

"How can I deny you that, my lady? If I may even call you that…" he responded softly, squeezing her hands in his.

"I'd be lost if you didn't," she admitted, finally letting go of his hands. "Be strong, okay? I know going out there and facing everyone isn't going to be easy for you… Like I said yesterday, you will have a lot of relationships to repair. That's going to come with no small amount of anger directed at you, but I know you can handle it as long as you remember who you have standing with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an empathizer personality, therefore, so does Cadash. I really can't stay mad at him and there is never a question about whether I will take him back as a lover in the game. I try to stress that things are NOT fine even though Cadash is willing to work things out, because jumping right back in would not be healthy. Then again, Cadash doesn't know much about healthy relationships. We'll see how they get past the betrayal of trust soon...


	12. Support and Conflict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naturally, there's a lot left to the imagination post-trial. Everyone in the Inner Circle has their own reactions, but we only get glimpses of those through party banter. Varric always struck me as the first one who would be supportive post revelation, and even though it was a passing line, I was really inspired by his viewpoint of Rainier's lies. Meanwhile Cassandra would be the most hostile because she is so up front and direct, and would feel disgust for people who do the opposite. Just two conversations, one for each of the pair, that flesh out people's feelings.

He exited her quarters by way of the unfinished bedroom entrance chamber. A ladder was conveniently left neglected, which led down to an unfinished room off the garden. He stood at the door for a moment, taking a deep breath. All he had ever done was hide, but no more; he had to man up or he really was going to lose it all. There was too much on the line to let that happen. Grabbing the handle tightly, he opened the door and slinked out. No, wait, not like this. He wasn't slinking in the shadows anymore, he was going to have to stand tall and walk before their scrutinizing eyes. He wanted to be sick, but he told himself over and over it was like facing a dragon. Okay, maybe worse than that, but still he had to push on fearlessly. Was he going to be a cheap copy of a hero or the real thing? 

Straightening his back and keeping his eyes ahead, he walked with as much confidence as he could muster across the garden, through the main hall, and down the stairs to the main courtyard. It would have been shorter to take the passage through Solas's study, but he had no intention of crossing the elf at this point in time (or ever to be honest). As he went, he felt the eyes size him up and heard the not-so-subtle whispers of disgust. He sighed but pretended not to hear. This was to be expected, and it would happen for a very long time, at least until someone else fell to disgrace.

When he finally arrived to the stables after his walk of shame, he found himself in the presence of Varric, who was inspecting the griffon rocker he had left there a week earlier. Varric turned to him, feigning disinterest. "Morning Hero. Just thought I'd check in on you. That was one hell of a day yesterday. You holding up okay?"

He could have been prying for information, but this was Varric. The dwarf had already been on speaking terms with him while he sat in a prison cell, and if he was going to start patching things up with his companions, the easy-going wise-cracking rogue was a good place to start. "It's…good to see you Varric. It's also nice to know there are at least two people in this world who don't wish me six feet under." He gave an uneasy chuckle, and Varric just shook his head smiling.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, there should at least be five," he deadpanned with a smirk. "Or do you not count Cole as a 'person'?"

"Well, you can't hardly count him either way, being that he always knew the truth. Nice guy, but I wish he'd stay out of my head…" Blackwall sighed. "We've…had whole conversations about it actually. It is more than a little unsettling."

"He must know everyone's dirt. At least he doesn't share," Varric agreed, leaning against a beam. Then, they fell silent. "So, really, are you okay?"

"I'm better than I ever thought I could be at this point," he admitted slowly, contemplating. "Obviously, being around the right people helps. Also…" he paused, looking around and noticed the stable-hands outside clearly leaning in his direction to hear better. "Well, maybe I won't discuss it here. Are you busy?"

"I could be, but I'm good at working my way around it," he winked.

"I'll elaborate up in the loft if you help me with something."

"Oooh, what kind of subterfuge do you need?"

Blackwall held up his hands. "No subterfuge. I'm tired of being sneaky. I just need a scissors and a mirror. I…haven't owned any shaving equipment for quite a few years now, if that shocks you."  
Varric pretended to think. "Fair enough. I get you the goods and you get me the information. Meet you back here in ten minutes."

Ten minutes went by, and when Varric returned to the stables with his bundle, he saw Blackwall speaking with a very serious-looking Master Dennet. His head was bowed, and he nodded readily at the older man's words. Dennet saw Varric approach, and clapped a hand on Blackwall's shoulder, saying one final comment before leaving him.

"So what, up in the loft?" he nodded in that general direction.

"Yes, that will do. Thanks for getting me what I need."

"Well, this will be worth a good story I'm thinking."

The two of them climbed up to the loft where they would be out of earshot and sight at least for a little while. Varric headed for the bed, and suddenly Blackwall remembered what had transpired the last time he was up there… "Makers balls…" he muttered, turning red and trying not to look at the bed as he sat down. His friend looked at him for a moment, then a sly smile crept across his face. "I have written romance novels before, poor as they were. I get it."

He looked startled. "If you are thinking what I think you are thinking, don't say anything to anyone!" he whispered urgently.

"Nah, that wouldn't really help things right about now," Varric held up a hand. "I've got to hand it to you two though, you did a good job at keeping it under the radar. There were suspicions, of course; she brought you on every single mission without fail! But no one could ever say for sure. Despite what she says to the contrary, Cadash tries to be professional."

"Just once," he interjected, studying the wall. "We both wanted to focus on the task at hand, and, well…I was trying not to get involved because of, well, you know…" he grabbed the scissors and mirror from Varric. "Just…don't let on to Cadash that you know. Her reputation is the one that will suffer for it."

Varric folded his arms. "Just once… Let me guess, that would be the night before you ran off. Sera mentioned someone was having a tumble up here while snickering about hay in awkward places. Sounds just like something I would write: horrible. Especially the timing of it…"

"It WAS horrible of me." He tried his best to steady his hand as he took up the scissors. "All I had to do was make it one more night, and I stumbled at the finish line. It was just one more thing on the list of reasons I hate myself."

Varric held up the mirror so he could see what he was cutting. "I wasn't joking when I said you couldn't have handled things worse with her. So, I guess the big question is, if you don't mind sharing, were you two all right last night? We saw you go up there and never saw you come out. You can imagine how imaginations went wild…" He snickered. "Besides the obvious comments, I think my favorite story was that even though she didn't order your execution, you said something to piss her off and she killed you anyway with her bare hands. Then threw your body out the window and down the mountain! Ah, I love Cadash, but I don't think she'd be able to haul your carcass over the edge of the balcony!"

Grasping one side of his uneven beard, he gave a resolute snip. "Any other woman probably would have shoved me off. But it…sure didn't go the way I thought it would. I thought she would punch me, scream at me, something after all I put her through." His face was downcast. "I started by trying to explain the whole need to call myself Blackwall thing, and ended up turning into a miserable sod."

"You told a story so convincing even you believed it, didn't you?" Varric's expression told him that was more of a statement than a question, and he wondered how the dwarf got to be as insightful as Cole without the weird spirit powers…

"I…yes. That was the conclusion we reached last night. I had to believe that story or I would drown in my guilt. It got ugly to say the least…" he trailed off, running his fingers through the cut portion of his beard.

"And she said…"

He stared into the mirror, at the face half groomed and studied himself. "She said we'd figure it out together." Grabbing the other unruly length of beard, he trimmed it off as well.  
"She forgave you," Varric summed it up with a genuine smile this time. "Leave it to Cadash, a dwarf showing more of Andraste's mercy than most humans."

"It's not all good," he said seriously, looking up at his friend. "We have a lot to work through before we're back to where we were. If we ever can be. I'm not so delusional that I believe she will keep me. But…" he looked down with a subdued smile, "Sweet Andraste, Malika still looks at me, still reaches for me. She is investing everything in helping me get through this. I don't know why, honestly, but…"

"But that's why you are trimming your beard right now," Varric concluded. "That's also why you walked across the courtyard with your head held high. You have a reason to keep going much stronger than the guilty conscience you walked in with. I am glad, for both of you."

Rainier let his hand rest on his lap. "Varric, I can't begin to tell you how much it has meant to me that you listen like this. It's been a long time since, well, since I've had a friend. You know I am truly sorry for whatever hurt I may have caused you with my deceit."

"Mighty arrogant of you to think I cared!" he retorted, but his expression was jovial.

"Perhaps. Can you forgive me for being a coward, a murderer, a traitor, a liar, a greedy lout, and…"

"Say no more Hero. I've already told you, whatever you were when all that shit went down, you are not that person now. And as for the lies, well, I do think you needed to believe them more than you needed us to believe them. You never intended to backstab us and you always acted true to your intentions; Cadash hit that nail on the head in court. You and I, we are good. And for the record, I am honored that you are telling me things. Step forward for you, really."

He sighed with relief. "That's two."

"Two what?"

"Two people that I have made amends with."

"Me and Cadash?"

He pressed his lips together. "I have a long way to go before that happens. There's more to make amends for when you are that close to someone. I was thinking you and Dennet."

"Ah, so that's what Dennet said to you back there?"

"I apologized profusely for each and every crime, volunteered to take on all the worst work of the stables and acknowledged I would be little more than slave labor. He of course gave me an earful about the Calliet thing, but then he told me the man who had been helping him was a good man and he would want to keep him around working for him. That and I am on manure duty until further notice." At that, even he had to laugh.

"Then you'd better get going so you don't disappoint. Quick, there are a few ends that could use trimming."

"Since when where you an expert with beards?"

He shrugged. "I'm not. Still know more about keeping a good one than you! And you know, if you did a little something with that mess of hair…"

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Malika exited the war room rubbing her temples. She had just wrapped up another strategy meeting with her advisors, and it was one of the more uncomfortable things she had had to do in a long while. It probably didn't help that Bla-Rainier…ended up falling asleep in her room the night before. Josephine was the most civil, being well versed in diplomacy, and her tone gave nothing away as she discussed their options to win the support of another Orlesian nobleman. Malika knew Josie had a big heart, and was more inclined to mercy anyhow. She might consider talking to her about everything once she had a moment. Cullen, on the contrary, was playing passive-aggressive the entire time. He never once looked at her, his disapproval obvious. She wanted to punch him, not just for being so cold in regards to Rainier, but for not bringing his thoughts up front when he clearly thought he had something to say. Then there was Leliana. Was neither passive nor aggressive, she simply studied EVERY move Malika made, every word she spoke, as if it might reveal something to her. It probably bothered her that she didn't know Rainier's secret, but Malike was 99% sure she had their relationship figured out. Was she trying to deduce what they did last night? The watching may have been the worst part of the meeting.

And if this was what she had to deal with, she couldn't imagine what Thom was dealing with… She sighed, hoping he was doing all right. Part of her wanted to check on him, but she knew leaving space between them was more important than ever after the trial. And, she told herself, there were things he'd need to figure out on his own without her. It was time he man up, or else there really wasn't any hope for them.

Lost in her musings, she didn't notice Cassandra sitting by the hearth until she cleared her throat loudly. "Inquisitor."

She jumped to attention. After so much time together, she knew Cassandra had her moods. At first, the only moods she saw were usually harsh, crabby, wanting to slash something with a sword… As they got to know each other and show more vulnerabilities, she came to see Cassandra more and more as thoughtful, sassy, even a bit romantic. Malika was thankful after their rocky start that they had been able to come to reach an understanding, even friendship. Unfortunately, from what she could tell, Cassandra was in the same type of mood she was in the day she had wanted to kill Cadash in prison, guilt assumed. This put the Inquisitor on edge.

"Cassandra, what can I do for you?"

"We need to talk," the woman declared, rising from her seat.

Malika held out her hands. "Don't get up on my account. Here, let me take a seat and we'll talk…" Standing meant aggression. She could just smell it coming.

Cassandra shook her head, weighing her words carefully. "You know I don't agree with everything you do, but you are the Inquisitor, and you have kept us to a good path. Your history may be…colorful…but you have proven to be a valuable comrade who always seeks to help those in need. Mercy, it seems, is your calling card, and I cannot fault you that."

"But…"

Cassandra inhaled, still trying to keep her tone measured. "You should not let…THAT MAN…stay here in the Inquisition."

"How did I know this is where the conversation was going?" Malika growled, crossing her arms. "And pray tell, why not?"

"I know we don't look on past crimes. For obvious reasons," she shot the dwarf a knowing look that made her blood boil, "But he had enough recent crimes against us, whether you chose to punish that severely in court or not. Would you have such a deceitful man in the middle of our organization? What would keep him from betraying us again?"

"Cassandra." Her tone was sharp. "He lied to us, it is true. But to say he betrayed us goes too far. He had only ever served, albeit under a fake identity, to the best of his abilities. He's bled with us. He's starved with us. He's fallen asleep bone tired with the rest of us fighting to stop the evil trying to take over this world. Just because we have been personally hurt by the deception does not mean he…"

"He has already done enough damage to the Inquisition!" Cassandra spat, stepping forward. "Do you not hear the gossip spreading through are halls, of how the mighty Inquisition never figured out his lies, of how he was set free after being brought to trial in our halls? And worst of all, the rumors that you spared him because he was your…lover?" The way she phrased the final sentence, as if the thought of being his lover was worthy of disgust, made her snap.

"And what if I was?!" she glared, challenging the Seeker.

The Seeker took the bait. "You don't deny it?"

"Why should I? The only reason I didn't make it known to my colleagues was because I knew you and some others would harp on me for doing the 'wrong' thing!"

"Because you DID do the wrong thing! You have let your emotions come before your duty as the Inquisitor in this matter, and you were not fit to judge him. The fact that you did so betrayed all of us!"

If Malika had been taller, she might have slapped Cassandra in the face. As it was, the best she could do was shove the taller woman backwards. "I did what I saw to be right! You don't know him the way I do!"

"And you do? Because I'm pretty sure he fooled you just as well as the rest of us!" Cassandra snapped, resisting the urge to punch her leader.

That hurt. Because it was true. The feeling of waking up on his bed alone, abandoned without being told the truth…he did make a fool out of her. But she knew one thing that no one else did: she knew how heavy the burden of his guilt was, a guilt so heavy it nearly suffocated him. So heavy he wished for death to escape it. "I know that giving him freedom was the harshest punishment I could give. He has no idea what to do with it, he doesn't feel he deserves it, he doesn't know how to deal with people like you. And you don't know how much he suffers because he was sentenced to go on living. Death would have been kind. In fact, if I abandon him now, I'm afraid he will seek out death on his own." An unwanted tear escaped her eye. After last night, after watching him stop breathing, she believed he could be one bad day from jumping off the mountain. And it terrified her. "So let me keep him close, here with the Inquisition. Let me keep him accountable for the sentence he was assigned. I swore before all those witnesses that if he betrays us, I take the fall with him. Isn't that good enough for you?" With nothing else to say, she pushed past Cassandra and out the door, slamming it behind her.

Cassandra's eyes burned through the closed door. She had been so mad about Rainier, about what he had done, about being deceived, about him walking away without having any "real" punishment at all, she forgot to notice how much her leader…no, her friend…was hurting. That was the first tear she had ever seen from Cadash since she had known her, and that said something after all the pain they had experienced together. She would never agree with what the Inquisitor decided, but she was still a friend who had helped her hunt down rogues escaping justice, who had been there to find the missing Seekers, who had sat down and encouraged her to pursue her dream of a new Order. She would despise him, but she knew she would not do it in front of Malika again. And if Rainier ever made her regret her decision… "I just don't want you to get hurt again," she finally admitted in a whisper. "And I don't want to see you pay for his mistakes."


	13. The Truth Amongst the Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I paid special attention to dialogue on my second play-through, knowing what I did about "Blackwall". I was trying to find the times he had no idea what he was talking about, and the times he was being genuine. I came to the conclusion that when he talked about the things he liked or disliked, or when he talked about his childhood, he was always honest. He may have assumed Blackwall's identity, but he didn't copy everything about him. Of course, he wouldn't know all that stuff about Gordon Blackwall, but he could have just opted not to share that with you. Things like the Tournament story. Or little things in the party banter such as jousting. The focus of this chapter is trying to sort out the things Cadash thinks she knows.

He stayed late at the stables, doing his best to show how much he wanted to make it up to everyone. No one would approach him besides Dennet, and on one occasion the Iron Bull. That time he had taken up the mercenary's offer of a drink up on the ramparts where there were fewer nosy bystanders and they talked over things until he could say there were three people he had made amends with. As Bull had said before, he could tell the man was lying the entire time, and was glad he was getting past his need to hide things. His mercenary background meant he could view the Calliet debacle from an objective standpoint, and while he agreed it had been a huge mistake to take on that contract, he understood assassination was a business, for better or for worse. The abandoning of his men was a big sticking point, Rainier knew it would be given the Qunari's relationship with his Chargers, but The Iron Bull noted that the current Rainier never let any of them undefended in battle, and had finally "grown the balls" to stand up for one of his old men. Bull was finally ready to put his faith in Thom now that he had finally come clean.

After doing his best to wash up after work, he made his way back to the garden, slightly more confident than before as he faced the gawkers. His muscles ached; amazing how he could get out of shape after a week of sitting in prison… Up the ladder he went and before entering her chambers to continue their discussion, he gave a polite knock on the door frame. "My lady, are you here?"

"Blackwall? Err, Thom? Ugh, I suppose we should start with that tonight, huh?" she appeared around the corner , studying him carefully, as if checking to see what wounds he had received during his first day post-trial. "Did you eat already?"

"No, my lady, I came straight here when I was done," he admitted.

She shook her head. "Come on then, I made sure I had something brought up in case that was the case." She grabbed his hand and led him up the stairs into her quarters. There on the table was more than 'something'; a steaming bowl of vegetable stew, bread, cheese, and a mug of ale were spread on her table awaiting his arrival.

"You…you did this for me?" he stuttered in disbelief, even as his mouth watered.

"If I knew you the way I thought I did, you worked harder than ever and probably forgot to eat lunch…" she informed him with a sly grin. "Was I wrong?"

He scratched his head. "Guilty as charged."

"Go on, dig in," she instructed, gesturing to the table. He obeyed eagerly, pulling out the chair and taking a seat. She sat down next to him. "Now, I am still the Inquisitor, so I've got to check in. How many amends did you make today?"

Between bites of bread and cheese, he swallowed and answered "Three. Bless Varric, I swear to the Maker he is the most agreeable guy. Helped me with this, in fact," he gestured to his chin.

"It looks so much nicer," she admitted. "I realized once I sent you out that you probably didn't even own a shaving razor. And…" she squinted, "did you trim your hair too?"

"Yes. Varric's idea," he admitted, running a hand through his no-longer-slicked-back hair.

"I'm glad you got Varric to help you out. He's pretty cool that way. In fact, I was taking bets with myself and he was pretty much the top of the list for people I thought would approach you first. Who else did you talk to?"

"Master Dennet. I told him he was my direct supervisor now and I would do whatever task he saw fit for me. It was…harder than with Varric. He was rather upset at first."

"But…" she pressed.

He looked at his bowl with a small smile. "But he told me he trusted me for who I am now, just expect some pretty shitty jobs for a while."

"Good, so you'll be keeping busy then," she nodded. "And the third?"

"The Iron Bull offered me a drink. I took him up on that. Him and that damn Ben-Hassereth training, said he knew I wasn't dealing my hand open from the start, so there was no shock-factor. Not surprisingly, he hates what I did to my men but…he acknowledged that I was different now, someone he could count on in battle and out. I don't mean to let him down."

She smiled. "I am so glad some people in this Inquisition know how to be reasonable!" Her mind briefly flickered to Cassandra and her mouth formed a scowl. "Though from here on out, it might take more of a battle plan, I'm afraid. Quite a few holier-than-thou types, and even more on their high-horses. I can work a few things… We'll see how long they hold out when it is one them dragged along to the Hissing Wastes with you, me and somebody else on your side!" This time the frown turned into an evil grin.

"You're thinking about Vivienne, aren't you?" he chuckled, taking another swig of ale.

"Perhaps…though I'd like to start with Cassandra. That woman is driving me crazy, especially considering that I distinctly remember her telling you it was never too late to change your ways… "

The smile disappeared from his face. "You know, it's probably not possible to win everyone over. You can't make people think a certain way. I'll just be happy if she doesn't 'accidentally' stab me during battle…"

She noted the change of mood and quickly changed the subject. "Anyhow, that's for another day. I don't plan on leaving until the day after tomorrow. At the moment, I am more interested in finding out how much of the real you you were showing before." She made a show of cracking her knuckles and smirked.

This didn't make him feel much better. In fact, he nearly choked on his stew. "I'm…going to be interrogated by the Inquisitor…" he set the spoon down and wiped his mouth carefully.

"Oh, don't let me stop you from eating. Just simple yes or no questions for the moment. For example, are you actually from The Free Marches like you told me?"

"Yes. Markham, as I mentioned previously. Never did pick up the Orlesian accent."

She looked thoughtful. "Was the real Blackwall also from there? Or did you just not mention that to Leliana? You'd think that would have been enough to tip her off…"

"I avoided the spymaster whenever possible. You're the only one I ever told that to. It probably wasn't the smartest thing for me to say, but…"

So he HAD been giving her shards of truth in there. Time to keep score. "All right, check one for the truth category. Do you actually like dogs?"

"Absolutely. More loyal creatures than I ever was."

"Completely unrelated to this interrogation, would you want to have a dog someday once this whole mess is over?" He nodded. She held up two fingers. "So far, so good. Now, do you actually follow jousting?"

"On the rare occasion I allow myself thoughts of anything trivial and heaven forbid fun, yes."

"I suppose you and Varric were having a pretty heated discussion on jousting and he knew his stuff… Did you ever joust yourself?"

"No, we didn't have money for horses so there was no training for it."

Three. "Do you legitimately resent nobles?"

"Yes. And now you know why. I got involved in their petty games only to ruin myself."

Four. "The whole story you told me about the Grand Tourney…"

"All true. You can see now why I regret turning down his offer even more clearly, can't you?"

She nodded. "And then you became a soldier…"

"Yes. I spent all my earnings from the tourney in a disgustingly short amount of time. Lots of wine, women and song as it were." He looked down uncomfortably, but he wasn't going to hold anything back at this point. "Had to earn some money, so I went to Orlais and joined the army."

"What about your family?"

He looked a bit embarrassed. "My folks and I never quite got along. You can guess how headstrong I was. And Liddy…" He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. "Maybe I would have stayed for her sake, if she had still been alive…"

Cadash was silent for a moment, reaching out and taking his hand. She never doubted this story was true. No one would make up a story about losing a sister, and no one could fake the truly heart-broken expression he wore when he thought about her. "She was very important to you…"

He nodded somberly. "There's another way things could have been different. She was always the one who kept me grounded. But she got sick, and…" he didn't finish the sentence, pain written all over his face. "I still wonder if I would have been a better man if I didn't lose her."

"You can't think about that, Thom. These what-ifs are just illusions..."

He shrugged. "Either way, once I left home, I was a brat who was too wrapped up in himself to write his parents. And by the time I realized how important that was, I was a fugitive. What could I possibly write to my parents that would bring them any consolation?"

"Are they still alive?"

"I honestly don't know. And unless I go back and ask around Markham, I don't know how I'll find out."

She looked thoughtful. "We are the mighty Inquisition. Surely we can get someone to find out!"

He fidgeted uncomfortably and took a long swallow of ale. "I should want that, shouldn't I? But the thought terrifies me…"

Cadash poked him in the chest. "Yes, but instead of running away…"

"…I need to face it," he finished, hanging his head. "I know. I'm sorry."

"I'll make a note of that and ask around tomorrow. Consider it part of our 'amends' to-do list." Her face softened. "Really, if you have family, you shouldn't take it for granted."

"My lady, so you…?"

"So, you were a soldier in Orlais. Then what?" she cut him off.

He wanted to pursue what he thought he stumbled upon, but looking at her demanding face, he knew it would have to wait until she was finished with him. "Rose in rank quickly until I became Captain at age 25."

"Then took the money from Chapuis…"

"Then…took the money from Chapuis…" he whispered, averting his gaze.

There was a pause as those words sunk in. "Well, I've been thinking about that. You did tell me there was something you had done that you didn't wish to discuss. You didn't actually lie about it, and I could have demanded to know before sleeping with you, but I didn't. That's my fault, not yours," she admitted.

"I knew better than to do that without setting things straight," he insisted.

"Anyways," she continued, shaking her head, "You ran off, took a few odd jobs here and there, anywhere you wouldn't be recognized. Blackwall found you and wanted to recruit you, but was killed in a darkspawn ambush."

"Saving my life," he added sadly. "I know you mentioned something about needing to go through this for the initiation, but I still don't know why he wanted me to go and purposely attack those things…"

"Well," she said, hesitating, "You wanted to become a Warden. Maybe you still do. Either way, I feel like I should be able to explain a bit more. Can you keep it a secret? If the order finds out people know about their Joining ceremony…"

"I will." He sighed. "After all, secrets are a talent of mine…"

"I…tried to get information from Leliana. You know, trying to put two and two together before the trial. I know she worked closely with a pair of Grey Wardens during the Fifth Blight. They apparently told her you don't just swear an oath to be a Grey Warden, that you have to undergo some kind of initiation ritual and to do that you need darkspawn blood. That was the reason they could not go around recruiting in Ferelden during the Blight; they were not able to administer such a ritual. She didn't know the specifics, says the group is so secretive even she can't figure it all out."

"Wait. So that means…" he breathed.

"You couldn't officially be Grey Warden until you underwent the ritual, no matter how you handled yourself. And apparently that's why you never heard the callings the others were hearing. That's also why you could never tell how many darkspawn were near us when we asked you in the dwarven ruins. And to make things worse…"

"If I had just taken the blood to Weisshaupt…"

She sighed. "Yeah, they would have known you were recruited, because no one would have known to gather the darkspawn blood."

He held his head in his hands, staring. "I could have just gone…"

"And you could have said 'yes' to the chevalier, but here you are with me in the Inquisition. And, I know it's horrible but…" she studied the table, "…I'm glad you didn't go. I'm glad you didn't do that ritual and weren't controlled by Corypheus and don't have to worry about the calling…"

 

"But that's what I wanted!" he asserted, giving her a hard look.

"I know you did. Maybe you still do. And when this is over, if that's what you really want, I'm sure they'll have you. It's just…me being selfish." She paused, looking uncomfortable. "Tell me now, do you intend to go through with it?"

"What difference would it make? Everyone would be glad to see me use my life for some constructive purpose anyhow!"

"Because, if you were to join, sign your life over to them, I…I don't think I could let myself get any closer to you than I am now. Losing you would hurt too much," she murmured. "But I don't own your life no matter what anyone seems to think. The whole point of the trial was to offer you the choice for yourself what you would do with the life you were given back, provided you made certain amends. I just…want to know what you intend going forward."

He hadn't expected that. "So, you're telling me that I can either dedicate myself to the organization I have idolized and looked up to since I met Blackwall, or I can possibly stay with you depending on how we manage to fix things?"

She buried her head in her hands. "Not a fair decision to make, no. I'm truly sorry for it."

"I…don't know how to respond, honestly. I can't believe you're putting that choice in front of me right now…"

"Thom…"

"Why do you use that name?" he growled in frustration, banging a fist on the table.

She pierced him with a hard gaze. "Because that's who you are. Working through it, besides making up shit about darkspawn, and other than the name and half the occupation, maybe a few references to battles you were never in, you were not a pure fabrication. Your background, the things you liked and the things you felt, those were all real. I can see that now, without the anger blinding me. I won't call you by that name in front of others if you don't want, but when it is you and me, I will address you as the man you are!"

"Malika," he said pointedly, trying his hardest to ignore her growing sadness, "I need to be more informed if I am to make that choice. I'm not going to ignore the possibility of becoming a Warden just because you 'might' want to stay with me. You need to give me more time, or at least let me know where I stand…"

She closed her eyes. Even as her next words tumbled from her mouth, she couldn't believe her own audacity. Or stupidity. Unfortunately, logic was not the driving force at this particular moment, not when she imagined a future without him in it. "Then get on the bed and take your shirt off."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be picked up right away in the next chapter. And no, this is not a healthy way to solve relationship problems. Cadash has her own set of issues that will be expounded on in the near future. Just know I don't advocate this behavior!


	14. The Only Way She Knows How

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where things heat up again, if you catch my meaning. It is not meant to be smut, and I'd try to avoid it, but it doesn't seem possible (as the chapter title suggests). I think it is a big part of how their relationship develops, with that sort of intimacy directly tied into their openness about their feelings. Even though again I state it isn't healthy to operate this way... Also, TRIGGER WARNING, very light consensual bondage here. Cadash wants him keeping his hands to himself at this point.

He couldn't have been more shocked. "Wait, what?"

She stood up. "On the bed, no shirt, now. I'm going to show you how serious I am." She turned and moved over to the door, locking it securely.

"But, you aren't thinking straight, you'll regret this…" he protested. "And I won't take advantage of you, not like I did the last time..."

"I'm not getting naked, if that's what you think. You will have no part of me; you will be the vulnerable one. Until you can show me that, I won't be repeating the stunt in the stables, do you understand?" Her voice was sharp now, commanding.

His heart thundered in his chest. She really WAS suggesting…Maker… He had no idea what such a thing would resolve, but somehow didn't doubt she needed it for reasons of her own. Unable to deny the woman who had breathed life back into him, he did as he was told, rising from the table and pulling his shirt over his head as he approached the bed. He laid on his back. The feeling of the silky fabrics was a big change from his bed in the stables, and he shivered at the cool touch against his skin. Then, he looked at her charged expression and he shivered again. She was very serious about this. That look sent a jolt through him.

She approached him, eyes now burning. "If you want me to show you how much I want you, then by all means, I will." As she finished speaking, she was already removing her button-up jacket and moving towards him. Slowly but intensely, she crawled on top of him, straddling his waist. He made no move to reach for her, but waited patiently for her to begin, eyes studying her intently. She noticed his hesitation. "And if you truly don't want this, all you have to do is tell me to stop, and I will. I'll be pissed if I find out you felt guilted into doing something you didn't feel comfortable with."

He shook his head. "I don't claim to understand this, but as long as I am not going to do anything to you, I consent."

"Any limits, Thom?"

Shit. Just what did that woman have in mind? Maybe he was finally going to get a good hiding... "Whatever you wish, I will grant. As I have said, I am at your mercy, My Lady," he whispered hoarsely.  
"Very well then. I want your hands behind your back." His eyes widened at the suggestion, though he obeyed with a gulp. He knew she was going to want to be in control after everything he had done, but he never would have imagined this happening. He wasn't concerned though; on the contrary, the idea of being restrained by someone he trusted as much as he did Malika caused a delicious clench in his gut. The arrangement seemed ideal. She slid off and began to undo his belt, pulling it free from the loops of his pants. "Turn." Again he complied, flipping so he was on his stomach, wrists pressed together behind his back as she had instructed. He felt the leather circle and pull tight around his wrists, securely binding them together. Tugging to test it, she grunted in satisfaction and rolled him back face-up. To her surprise, his eyes were already dilated. "This is okay, then? I don't want you to think for a moment I don't trust you to…"

"It's fine, Malika. Do what you need to do. You'll have no objections from me," he assured, running his tongue along his bottom lip.

That did it. She pressed her mouth to his, the first true kiss they shared since everything had come to light. He was shy at first, a different person than the man pushing her backwards in the loft. He WAS a different person; he was a man with all his lies and deceptions laid bare. Maybe with time he would regain confidence, but that wasn't really the most important thing now. Before long, he allowed himself to mirror her movements. Damn it, he did want her, even if he didn't deserve her, and she held nothing back. Once he began reciprocating, he could feel her smile into the kiss, moaning happily. Her own fingers reached out and played with his hair, leaving his scalp tingling where they grazed.

Breaking away to catch her breath, she began to trail kisses along his bearded jaw and down to his neck. She sucked violently, even gently biting him, and he gasped. No woman had ever been so forward… Then her mouth moved down his impressive, muscle-bound chest, nose tickled by the hair that covered it. The first time, she was so intoxicated by the look he was giving her that she hadn't appreciated the firm definition of his abs, result of years of training as a swordsman and a rough life on the road. There were plenty of scars, but he was a warrior; he wore them with pride. Hands also moved south, nails lightly trailing down the arms still exposed to her, giving him chills. When he studied her attentive treatment of his chest, he saw that she herself was lost in her own desire. His breath hitched in his throat. Maker… She still felt that for him after everything he had done?

Finally looking up, she caught him staring helplessly as he panted heavily. Apparently he was in awe at the realization of her feelings and his own need, and it amused her. "Didn't know I could push your buttons like this, did you?" she smirked. Then she gave a nip to his earlobe, sending a wave of pleasure ripping through his body. He could not stifle another groan.

Eager to please him further, she kissed her way towards his navel while her hands unfastened his pants and pulled them down with his smallclothes. "I see why you got so many girls back in the day." Her eyes held a devilish glint so he knew she was not seriously offended by his history. All the same his mouth went dry.

"Malika, I went after a lot of girls, not the other way around. Not that they weren't…satisfied...but a woman has never wanted me enough to lavish attention on my body without anything in return. Not like…ahh!"

Her hands began to move, and it was exquisite. It was clear that despite not being on the receiving end, pushing him to the edge gave her her own sort of pleasure. "Malika!" He hated the desperation in his voice, but he couldn't think straight. His eyes squeezed closed and his jaw went slack. He hadn't felt this kind of intensity for a long time. He had no control, could not predict. Shit, everything was clenched so tight… "Please!" he begged again in a strained voice, unable to form a coherent sentence. She did as he wished by increasing her pace, proud she could turn him into that begging mess and more than a little pleased to be the one getting to decide how much and when… He lost his control and found his release at last.

Her smile was satisfied as she got off of him to clean up. He lay on the bed panting, head limp and rolling to the side, in disbelief at how unraveled she made him become. When she returned, she straddled his hips again. "You came so quickly. I was planning on more before setting you off, but damn, I can't say 'no' when you plead me like that…" Her index finger traced lazy figures across his chest, teasing him. "Do you understand my feelings, Thom? Do you feel how much I need you?"

He looked into her green eyes. "I don't understand how you can want someone like me that badly, but I won't deny I felt your intentions clearly."

She snuggled against his shoulder. "More than anything, I want to show you how much I need you, not just as a companion or friend, but as a lover. I want you to grab me and cry my name because..." She stopped, suddenly unsure of herself. "Does any of that even make sense?"

"I'm all yours, you needn't worry yourself about that," he said with certainty. He wished at this point that his arms weren't still trapped behind his back so he could hug her or something. She noticed when he shifted uncomfortably.

"Are you spent, or…?" she mused, trying not to look too eager.

"Are you sure you don't want me to…"

"Not tonight," she cut him off quickly. "Not yet. I want to work through this on you first. I need to see you vulnerable before I do the same again. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lady. Whatever you wish from me, it's yours." He sighed.

"What is it Thom?"

"It's just that…I should feel dirty the way you handle me, but for some reason it actually makes me feel…clean. Cleaner than I've ever felt."

Her expression was tender as she gently planted a kiss on his forehead. "You are letting yourself be loved. I imagine it is a weight off. Now…" She pinned his shoulders to the bed and began to ravage his mouth once more. Her kisses were hungry, desiring all he had to give, and he gave willingly. "I both love you and need you, Thom Rainier," she declared, coming up for air. "You will learn to accept that as the truth."

He blinked, surprised by this sudden outburst. "Malika?" But she had disappeared, ducking down from eye level. Suddenly, he realized she planned on taking him another way.

The deed was intense and efficient. There was no doubt she had practiced that sort of a thing in her past life. It was strange; before that moment, he always believed it to be the work of whores, trashy. No connection at all. Yet when he craned his head to watch her work, her expression was blissful, her hands gripping his hips tightly as if she didn't want him to pull away while she enjoyed owning him with her mouth. This was how Malika could show her feelings, by choosing to give him pleasure when all her life she had been forced. Of course, though he felt deeply touched by her desire for him, this was quickly smothered by other feelings. He spent himself once more, more quickly than he'd care to confess.

When he became aware of his surroundings again, he noticed she was gone. Gone? But… He tugged at his restraints and they did not budge. Was this a lesson she wanted to teach him? Before he could panic, she reentered the room from the bathroom, wiping her mouth. "I didn't mean to scare you, I just have never been able to stomach swallowing that." He stilled, relieved to see her. "Now, one last thing before we call it a night. You can watch for now; I might let you handle this another night if you keep up the good behavior." With that, she sat against the headboard and began rubbing herself. She could feel his eyes on her, watching with longing, but he said nothing, knowing it was not his place. She swallowed a gasp as she found release to all the sexual tension she had been building throughout the evening, and satisfied at last, she collapsed on his warm chest, coming back down to the sound of his heartbeat.

He shifted, wanting desperately to hold her, but he couldn't, not restrained as he was. He gave a frustrated growl as he tugged, and she opened one eye with a mischievous grin. "You want to touch me so badly, don't you Thom Rainier? You have been good. Here." She reached around and unfastened the belt, freeing his arms at last. He rubbed them gingerly.

"Andraste's tits, there's a lot of burning passion in that composed demeanor, isn't there?" he wondered, blinking in disbelief. She smiled, getting off the bed, and began to undress before his eyes.  
"In case you were wondering, that's what I still feel for you," she said simply, letting the cloth of her breast bindings float to the ground and standing naked before him. For the first time all evening, she looked embarrassed, as if those feelings were inappropriate or out of line.

"That's…a lot," he admitted, staring. "It's like…what you told me back in the prison. About feeling what is true in the way someone touches you. You…" He swallowed nervously, almost afraid to say it. "You love me, don't you?"

"Do you want to become a Warden, Thom?" she asked, turning away and reaching for her nightgown. "I suppose it matters very little now. I'm in way over my head anyhow."

His face read pure shock. Never in a million years did he expect her to come back within a week of finding out he betrayed her trust to express love for him. Hell, even the intimacy they had experienced was unfathomable. He was perhaps the most unlovable man there ever was and had no business clinging onto her, but to reject her affections… Could one turn down such a precious gift for no reason other than they didn't deserve it?

She noticed he was still processing. "I know what you are thinking. You may not believe me, but I think I've figured out how your mind works. You are sitting there asking yourself if you should be allowed to stay." She sighed as he winced, his thoughts revealed instantly. "What did I tell you, Thom? You feel the cleanest when you let someone love you. But if you want to go with the Wardens, do it. Just…make sure you do it for the right reasons, okay?"

He inhaled deeply. Every bone in his body screamed to leave her alone, that he'd done enough damage. There was something about her that was fragile under that rough exterior, and the fact that she seemed to take his crap and forgive it so easily made him wonder just how starved for love she had been. But was breaking it off with her the same as running away? "I've said it a thousand times, I don't deserve to be happy." He saw her face fall and his heart almost stopped. "But if I am allowed to choose, and if I'm being honest with myself for once in my life, I want to be with you more than I can bear, and I'll do whatever it takes to make us work out." He said it so earnestly, her stomach flipped.

Pulling the nightgown over her head, she moved silently back to her bed and crawled next to him, resting her head on his chest once more. This time, he was able to wrap her into a strong embrace and hold her close, resting his chin on her head. She fit so perfectly in his arms… "I am so illogical when it comes to you," she whispered. "It's…very frightening. And definitely new. Sometimes I look at you now, and I can't breathe. I'm supposed to be strong, smart, but…" Her voice cracked. "What I feel for you after being lied to, betrayed, abandoned…it's foolish and weak." Before she knew it, a tear slid down her cheek. "I'm going to get hurt again, that's what everyone and my brain tells me but I can't stop my feelings for you. And I'm so afraid I'm going to wake up tomorrow and you will have left me again, even after giving you all that I have. So afraid…"

Once she trailed off into tears, he released his grip on her and pulled her up so they were lying face to face. His eyes were cloudy with pain as he shakily wiped the tears from her cheeks. "The way I left you that night, I regret all of it. I thought I could justify making love to you just once before I left, but no. I'm afraid that I've broken you because I was too weak to turn you away. Malika Cadash, don't ever think it was something you did or didn't do that led me to abandon you when you were vulnerable. It was me and my fucked up sense of right and wrong. You are perfect, and if I ever abandon you again, you should kill me. Or better yet, send Cassandra to do it; she will take great pleasure in it, I'm sure."

She had to give a small laugh at that image, and it made him smile. Leaning forward, he softly kissed away the rest of her tears, beard absorbing the moisture. "My promises don't mean shit anymore, but for whatever it is worth, I swear I will never run way again. I will never hide things from you and say it is for your own good. If you will have me, I never want to leave your side Malika." Her response was to bury her head against his warm hairy chest and snuggle in. It made his heart want to explode.

"Say, didn't you promise we would talk about you tonight?" he wondered, stroking through her hair gently.

She groaned. "Well, that's unfortunate, I guess we won't get around to THAT this evening."

He pulled her back for a moment to look into her eyes. "Tomorrow night, no excuses. Because then we hit the road and we won't have time nor opportunity. There's something going on under your own façade, my lady."

"Yeah," she agreed, returning to her prior position.

"And my lady…" he began.

"Yes, Thom?" she replied, worried what it was going to be about.

"You told me you weren't going to get naked. What happened to that?" he teased, rubbing her shoulder.

She had to laugh. "Not for that long really…"

"But you removed it all right in front of me when we finished. You minx…" he planted a kiss on top of her head. "You know how to drive a man mad."

"But, you know, this was the first time I got to choose," she said softly.

That thought made him physically hurt. He recalled her words to him before she stormed off from the prison and pulled her tighter. "And you chose me for whatever reason. I'm a very lucky bastard."


	15. Reparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just always imagined Cadash hating living in such excess luxury after how she grew up, and I also had this thought about how she would try to help Rainier with his debts. Throw Cullen into the mix so he can suck it up and air his grievances (or so I can say he appears in this chapter in a shameless bid to get more people to read it...) Finish with a smattering of Sera, who is darn hard to write because I usually ignore her in the game.

"Inquisitor, do you have a moment?"

Cadash had been strolling through Josephine's administrative area on her way back to the war table when the Antivan rose from her desk and called for her. She braced herself for something unpleasant. It wasn't that Josephine was an unpleasant person, far from it; she simply ended up being the bearer of bad news from every other ruler and noble in Thedas.

"Of course, Josephine, what do you need?"

She looked uncomfortable even though she was well-practiced in this role. That told Cadash this was going to be something about Rainier. She was correct.

"We received our first…complaint…about the Warden treaties we exacted. One Comte DuChagney near Val Chevin. He…" she sighed, closing her eyes, "…wishes to receive his entire contribution back now that he knows about our 'Blackwall'."

Malika rolled her eyes. "Typical. Because donating money to help stop the demons and rifts in the sky…that just wouldn't make sense at all."

"While I agree, there is little we can do besides reimburse him. We have already sent our petition to Weisshaupt to continue our claim on their contracts, and we expect a favorable response after what happened at Adamant, but until they send a response, our hands are tied." She cleared her throat. "On that account, I wanted to clarify your ruling during the trial. I believe you said he would need to answer to me for any headaches caused by this debacle."

"Correct. What do you need from him to help smooth this out?"

"Well, unfortunately there's not a whole lot that can be done. We need to hand over a substantial amount of coin, an amount he won't be able to pay personally."

Her ears rang with Cassandra's words from the day before: He has already done enough to damage the Inquisition. And this was potentially just the start of what could become a very costly string of reparations. Until she thought of something better, he'd have to start paying for it with whatever little he had. He needed to mitigate the damage. "Well, it seems reasonable to take a generous chunk of it from his monthly stipend. And if he has it, a sum from what he has saved up during the past year. The punishment was open ended, and I don't believe…why are you looking at me like that?"

Josephine's eyes had widened in surprise during her friend's exposition. "You mean you didn't know?"

"Ummm, what don't I know?" She raised an eyebrow. The Inquisitor was usually informed of everything.

"Well, I…just thought with you two being so…close…you would have known more about his finances," Josephine tried to explain lamely. "Though then again that hasn't proven to mean much. I mean…oh dear." Her face flushed with embarrassment. "I am normally much better with my words than this…" She rested her forehead against the heel of her hand in exasperation.

Cadash sighed, completely brushing off Josephine's implications regarding his secrecy. "So I take it you heard me and Cassandra yesterday."

"I may have been returning to my station after our meeting…" the diplomat admitted. "And… Leliana was pretty sure even before that. Something about dancing in Halamshiral. It didn't take much imagination to picture that."

Ah yes, that probably wasn't the most subtle thing to do on a balcony… She cleared her throat. "We figured that was bound to happen. I mean, we live with the most talented spy in Thedas. Anyways, that is off topic. What about his finances don't I know?"

She ran her fingers nervously through her long dark hair. "I don't usually reveal matters of personal finance to others, but this seems to be a necessary exception. When the Inquisition came into its own and began amassing sufficient funds, you know we allotted so much to each member as a small stipend for their work, for those supporting families and the like."

"Yes. We wanted to make the Inquisition a desirable place to work, so to speak. Wages help."

"Well, the thing is, when we approached Bla-err, Rainier…at that point to inform him of his stipend, he told us he didn't want to receive any payments for his service."

Her face softened. Thom… This whole time, he had been offering his service for nothing but a couple good meals each day and a roof over his head (and even then he chose to stay in the stables). Keeping himself as far away from his former greed as he could. Shit, he had always been trying to make up for everything as best he knew how, and hearing this truth come to light only cemented her belief in that. "How'd he pay for the drinks at the tavern?" she finally mused, a small smile playing on the edges of her mouth.

"We figured we could at least give him a tab at the Herald's Rest," Josephine informed, studying her Inquisitor's face. "At the time, I thought he could not take money due to his affiliation with the Grey Wardens. But now…" she stopped, looking up at the ceiling. "He was trying, wasn't he?"

"Yes." Her answer was resolute. "And honestly that doesn't surprise me at all, though I'm sure it would be a shock to a lot of people in this organization."

Josephine was silent for a moment. "At any rate, he has not been making money and still does not at this point. Paying him retroactively or even starting to pay him now would look a bit suspect I'm afraid. So, unfortunately that plan will not work. We will take the gold for reparations directly from our funds. I suppose in a way we wouldn't have that gold to begin with without his claim to be a Warden, so it isn't a true loss. Imagine it as a loan that helped get us off the ground. When you think of it that way, it was a great deal without having interest attached." Finally her face resumed her positive glow.

Malika closed her eyes in thought. Josephine was right, but she knew there were plenty of people who would not look at it that way. For nothing more than appearances she needed a different plan. "Wait. Don't make any payments until tomorrow. I might have another idea."

"An idea?" the woman looked hesitant.

The dwarf waved it off. "Completely legal, I assure you. Can you do that for me?"

"I suppose a day won't make a huge difference."

"Thanks Josephine. And I mean, for everything you have been doing to smooth this out. I…we… haven't made it easy on you." Cadash studied the floor and scratched her head.

"You know how I love a challenge. Besides, you would do the same for me. You already got involved with my own personal machinations despite the threat of assassins."

"I just hope that someday, you don't look back on this and say you did everything for me alone. I hope you are starting to see what I do when you look at…" she stopped, unable to finish. But Josephine knew what she meant.

"I'm already starting to, I assure you. And any time you need to talk, not as the Inquisitor, but as a friend, you know where to find me."

Malika's smile was genuine. "Thanks Josephine. I will probably take you up on that soon. First, I have some things to take care of." She waved and began to head for her room. Before she exited the door, she paused. "And Josephine, did we…"

"Already sent the notices to all our lenders, yes."

This response received a thumbs up from the leader.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Malika and Cole waited behind the door to her chambers, each holding a heavy box. The rogues pressed their ears against the door waiting for the tell-tale sounds of rampant confusion only Sera could deliver. Malika was adamant about not being seen carrying off items from her quarters, and it took little persuasion to get help from Cole and Sera in this matter.

Finally, it happened. She could smell the putrid stinkbomb through the door and hear the shrill cries of women as they rushed out of the hall. A mischievous grin crossed her face as she imagined those nobles desperately fanning themselves in dismay. And the best part? Sera had assured her she could make it look like some failed mages experiment wafting in through the garden. Heaven forbid the guests would be on the receiving end of some base prank! After a moment, she signaled to Cole and cracked the door open. Coast was clear. "Come on, let's go!" she hissed and started out the door.  
"Are you sure this was helping?" Cole wondered aloud as he followed her across the hall and through Solas's study. The mage had evacuated as well, leaving the path clear.

"Trust me, Cole, this is helping. Just think about it: Blackwall needs the money, I need to not get caught doing this, and all those people needed to get some fresh air instead of hanging around like vultures. And hell, we've totally brightened Sera's day. Everybody wins. Kind of." She kicked open the door to the eastern side of the courtyard and descended the steps.

"Where are we taking it all?" the spirit questioned further, beginning to turn transparent to avoid being seen.

"Bonny Sims. She'll be able to sell off this stuff and turn a good profit. Then we can take the gold back to Josephine and settle this guy's stupid gripe."

She was so busy explaining to her friend that she didn't see Cullen until she ran into him, dropping the box and spilling the contents on the ground. Naturally, the hulking form of the Inquisition's commander didn't even flinch as the dwarf reeled backwards. "Inquisitor, practicing your stealth are you? With Cole? It doesn't seem to be going well today." His face was dead serious despite the teasing nature of the comment. She knew that any other day he'd at least have one corner of his mouth turned upwards in a smirk.

"How did you know it was me?" Cole's voice demanded. He refused to materialize despite being called out.

"There is a box floating across the courtyard," the soldier stated sourly. "Who else could it be?"

"The mages practicing telekinesis?" Malika supplied helpfully.

"Hmmm, that's interesting, because I thought they were busy trying to brew some new potions and accidentally created a foul-smelling by-product…"

She held up her hands. "Hey, no one said all the mages had to be doing the same thing at the same time!"

"Irresponsible, childish, she's come so far but now so many steps back. He's to blame…" Cole warned.

Cullen drew a slow breath. "Cole, you know how I feel about the prying! Will you PLEASE leave the Inquisitor and me to talk?"

"As you wish." The box lowered onto the ground and they could hear footsteps walking back up the stairs. Cullen waited until he could no longer feel his presence.

Malika had begun collecting her items and stuffing them back in the box during that exchange. "I've noticed myself you've had something on your mind you weren't sharing. Are you ready to talk now?"

Suddenly, he reached out and latched onto her wrist with a strong grip, stopping her from her task. "What is this, Cadash? Fine dresses? Jewelry? For crying out loud, polished silver bookends? These came from your room, didn't they?"

"I don't need all this," she said simply, ripping her arm away and glaring. "There's no reason the Inquisitor needs to live like royalty no matter what Vivienne says. I wasn't brought up with all this absurd finery, I just need the basics."

"And that's the ONLY reason you are sneaking around with boxes of your personal affects?" Cullen challenged, hands on his hips.

"I won't deny there are other reasons too, but that business is mine alone."

"You're trying to bail him out." His expression was cold, yet it sparked a fire within her. She set the box down and this time she grabbed his wrist, dragging him into a hidden corner of the courtyard where they could hash this out in more privacy.

"I'm trying to take responsibility for my part in everything. I made it clear that I would be taking on some of those burdens alongside him. Half the people raising a stink don't even care where the money comes from as long as it LOOKS like it isn't coming from the Inquisition's pocketbook. You and I both know that's the bottom line."

"That's not the point!" he exclaimed, running his gloved hand through his hair in frustration. "He's got you wrapped around his finger, bending over backwards to protect him."

"Don't even pretend to know what he thinks!" she snarled. "For your information, it's nothing like that at all. And don't sit there pretending that money is your only issue. You've been holding in your venomous opinions ever since they locked him away. I could see it simmer under the surface." She jabbed a finger into his chest. "It's time you man up and just say it!"

"He's a manipulative, cowardly son of a bitch who betrayed everyone who trusted him. He betrayed his men, he betrayed his country, and he betrayed us. How much can a man do and still get redemption?!" He kept his voice down, but his face was flushed with anger as he spit it out. "He deserved to die the way his soldiers did."

"Ah, so there it is." She folded her arms with a knowing smile that caught him off-balance. "It may surprise you, but already you two have that much in common. He felt the same."

"How do you know anything that snake says is true?" Cullen snapped in annoyance.

"I suppose I can't. But I feel it is true. No way to explain it. And, going along with similarities, I'm actually a bit surprised how quickly and viciously you condemn, Cullen Stanton Rutherford. You of all people should understand wanting to be a different man."

"I never lied! I never left my men to die!"

She shook her head. "No, you didn't. Your demons were different, but they were still demons. Understand, Cullen, I was in Kirkwall when you were Meredith's number two. Your problem was never lies, it was brutal, hateful honesty. But that doesn't matter now. You made a clean break from that man and have become someone I call a friend, an admired leader of the troops. That potential rested in you, and it rests in him too. And I can see it, because I was also the same as both of you." She reached out and up and grabbed him by the shoulders. "I'm not telling you to let go of your anger. That's personal and that's your business, though you should really talk with him about it instead of letting it eat at you. I am telling you that this is my business, and while I understand you are frustrated, you will in no way shake my resolve to see him make it through this the better man he truly desires to be."

"How can you be so sure of that Malika?" he persisted

She shrugged. "How can you be so unsure? Are you telling me there is not one redeeming quality buried somewhere in there?"

He didn't plan on answering that, but her eyes bored a hole into him until he felt compelled to oblige. "I always respected how he cared about the men and went through all that trouble training them. That's what gets me the most about all of it; he had that once and threw their lives away like they was nothing. That's hard to swallow."

"You have no argument from me; I used to be that disposable chess piece, at the mercy of our boss, same as those soldiers. But has he made the same mistake twice? Has he even once abandoned us to save his own skin since we've known him?"

"He abandoned you!"

She shook her head. "No. It felt like it at the time, but that wasn't true. And the end result sure wasn't going to be self-preservation."

"He went back to save his soldier after all those years…" Cullen closed his eyes.

"Exactly. There is hope."

The commander frowned once again. "Are you still going to insist on pawning off these gifts? You might hurt some noble's feelings…" This time though, she saw it, the slight glint in his eye that indicated his amusement. She responded with a smile.

"Absolutely. Now that you've scared away Cole, mind helping me carry that other box?"

He heaved an exasperated sigh. "Very well, Inquisitor. And I won't even mention Sera's involvement…"

"Ha! Good! You know you thought it was pretty funny," Cadash grinned, picking up her box as he grabbed the other.

As they moved across the yard and towards Bonny Sims' stall, he shifted from one window of the loft to the other, silently cursing the cracking of his aching joints as if it was loud enough to be heard in the chaos below. He then watched intently as she sold many of her fine clothes and trinkets for coin to pay his debts. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but he could feel his chest tighten with something.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

"Thought I'd find you here Broody Beard!" a familiar sing-song voice crowed from the doorway to the stable, interrupting his thoughts. Which were in fact brooding.

"Have some fun today, I heard?" he turned around with a chuckle to address his favorite Red Jenny. He held his chisel in one hand, and Sera knew he had been working on finishing that damn rocker finally. In her mind, it had been good enough a long time ago, though he never seemed quite satisfied.

"I bet the word traveled like wildfire. When the snobs get angry, everyone hears about it, yeah? I hope their fancy pants still reek of dead skunk." She broke off into a gleeful chortle as she imagined that image.

"A fine distraction for the Inquisitor…" He gaged her response for understanding. Turns out that wasn't necessary; Sera was anything but subtle.

"Wait, you know about that?"

He nodded seriously. "Sera, be straight with me…"

A loud guffaw burst from her mouth. "I like you well enough, but we're never going to take things that far…"

He held his head in his hands pretending to be annoyed, but his grin betrayed him. For many people, a conversation with Sera required a level of patience they simply did not possess, but he was rarely bothered by her attitude or snark. In fact, he almost always walked away feeling better after listening to her random silliness. "A poor choice of words on my part. I forget the maturity level of my audience."

"Damn right. Subcontext is my specialty, and don't you forget it!" She folded her arms. "But anyway, shoot. What do you want to know?"

"She was sneaking things out of her bedroom to sell, wasn't she?"

"Hey, I can't tell you anything! I'm sworn to secrecy!"

"That tells me enough." He stopped and turned away. "I wish she wouldn't. Even if she hates those fancy things anyhow."

"Oi, that sounds a lot like big person pride. Can't have people help, makes you look small and all that. Don't get any funny ideas Beardy." She fidgeted her hands. "I still can't believe you used to be one of the fancy pants…"

"Does it bother you a lot, Sera?" he asked quietly.

"No, not really. It's just WEIRD. 'Cause you're totally different, you know? I guess what you were doesn't matter a whole lot, and you're trying, which is better than most people ever do. But sometimes you try too hard." Suddenly, he felt his arm being yanked practically from the socket. "Come on Beardy, let's go to the tavern and get a drink, huh? Stop trying for a few hours and just relax, all right?"

"I need to report in by nine…"

"Yeah yeah. Just tell Cadash we were out 'patching things up' or some rubbish. We are, more or less, right?"

Finally he let himself be pulled. "Right."


	16. Turning the Tables

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Cadash, your time is coming! Again, this isn't the best way to resolve your issues and I don't advocate it, but I promise, in the next chapter to explain some of what is going on. When barriers come down, things get exposed.

She was at her desk absentmindedly skimming over the most important documents Josephine had sent her for review when she heard the door to her quarters swing open loudly, knocking against the wall with a raucous thud. "My lady?" he called jovially, latching the door behind him and clunking up the stairs. "I didn't forget about you…" When he came into view, she noticed he was looking much less serious than he had been of late, a goofy smile on his face and a flush to his cheeks. Apparently he was too buzzed to worry about secrecy this time around.

She had to laugh; she hadn't seen him this intoxicated in a long time, and even better, it didn't seem to have anything to do with drowning sorrows. "I take it you were out having a good time at the Herald's Rest?"

"I promise, it wasn't just fun and all," he mumbled. "Sera asked me for a drink, and I had to speak with her anyhow. Make amends and all that."

"I'm sure that was a real serious conversation," she rolled her eyes with a smile, getting up from her desk. "I take it you didn't have too many problems in the tavern?"

His smile disappeared for a moment. "Got enough looks. But when you are with Sera you forget about that, I suppose. Varric and Bull joined us too. I guess you'd call that safe. I know I couldn't just go get a drink by myself, not right now."

Cadash nodded. "I'd say that was an achievement of sorts." She walked over to where he was standing and studied him. "So, you came to check in with your supervisor, did you?"

"Well, that, yes," he acknowledged. Then a slow grin plastered across his face. "Though after last night I don't know if I'd call you THAT…"

A vexed look crossed her face that made his eyes go wide. "Thom Rainier, are going to make me regret last night? Because if your lover and your Inquisitor cannot coexist when necessary, you KNOW which one of them has to go…"

He swallowed, looking nervous. 'I-uh, sorry, My Lady…"

"You know I have responsibility for you and I take that seriously. So will you," she continued, hands on her hips. Taking responsibility. He suddenly remembered the way she snuck boxes of personal items to pawn off that afternoon, paying his debts. That was enough to uncloud his eyes a bit. "So, you've talked things through with Sera. Another one to check off the list. Who do you plan on speaking to next?"  
"I…don't know, honestly. Everyone else is so damn intimidating," he admitted, scratching his head. "Cassandra is going to kill me if I so much as look at her. Vivienne will shoot me down in three words. Solas think I'm some kind of brute and won't waste his breath on me. Cullen wants me dead, Leliana's probably still pissed she didn't figure out my secret. I guess…" he closed his eyes, "Josephine. Or Dorian. If anything else he riles me up so I shouldn't be at a loss for words…"

"As you wish. I'll put him in our party when we leave tomorrow."

"You mean, you're taking me with you?" he asked in disbelief. "But only the inner circle travels with you, and…"

"Yes. You will do the most good there, rather than hauling manure here. I don't know of many people with your level of battle prowess in the entire Inquisition." She didn't want to tell him, but she was also afraid to leave him alone for a long period of time, not so soon, not with so many people still giving him death-glares and cutting with cruel words. She wanted to protect him as much as she wanted him to protect her.

"Right. But, if I may bring up this subject, you said we would talk about you tonight," he prompted, folding his arms and settling into her couch to make it clear he was not going anywhere.  
"That I did, I suppose," she frowned, studying her hands. "But aren't you a little inebriated for that sort of conversation?"

"I'll sober right up if it means getting to the bottom of things. I've been telling you every little thing you want to know, but you haven't revealed all your cards to me yet. This doesn't work one-sided, Malika."

"Well," she started, unconvinced, "there's something I need to hear from you first."

"Another distraction?" he raised an eyebrow and gave a stern look.

She flushed. She was not used to being questioned, not since becoming Inquisitor. Of course, he was right, so she couldn't be too angry at him for pushing the issue. "No…I promise, it will lead into what you want to hear from me. But you have to admit, I need to know your thoughts about me for real, not what you told me in prison when you were trying to make me abandon you. That was your intention, was it not?"

It was his turn to become embarrassed. "Uh, right. Fair point."

"When did you start having feelings for me? Why? What went through your head? I…struggle to understand," she admitted. "I want to hear it from you."

He looked into her earnest, wondering face and was once again deeply surprised at the way she phrased the question, as if she didn't think she was capable of being loved. This needed to be explained, but he would humor her request first. Rainier leaned back. "Very well. From the beginning then." He closed his eyes. "When I first met you in the Hinterlands, you impressed me with your sharp wit and equally sharp prowess in battle, and I wanted to stick around to see what you would do. Besides, stopping the giant hole in the sky seemed a good plan."

"You mean my blatantly obvious flirting didn't ensnare you?" she blushed, remembering her words to him that day.

"'Where does that leave us?', isn't that what you said? With that pouty look." He laughed. "Malika, I am a worldly man. I know what that look implied. You were angling for something. It was going to take more than that to get me on board, but luckily I agreed against my better judgement." He shook his head. "Then, when I observed you helping all those people torn up by war, I found deep respect for you. You promised to help, and you were true to your word, even if you never painted yourself as a saintly figure. I'd forgotten what that was like, that there were actually people like that out there. It drew me to you, inspired my loyalty. When I asked you for a favor, you helped me find those caches of Warden items even though you had a thousand other tasks to accomplish. You valued my wishes as much as the wishes of the hands of the Divine or the Royal Enchanter. I knew you were a good friend and I could count on you."

"I could never tell if that was all there was to us, or if your own little flirts were hinting at something serious. It seemed to come so easily, I thought it had to be a joke."

"To be honest, I flirted with you at first even before I truly felt a strong bond. It had been so long, it was so nice to get attention. The first time I felt attracted to you was when you made your own decision to help the mages even though almost everyone else on the council stood against you. The steel of your resolve, the way you would help anyone in need of it no matter their label. The flash of your green eyes and the purpose of each stride." The corners of his mouth turned upwards at the memory, though this was well hidden beneath his beard. "I found myself wanting to impress you the way you impressed me, to be virtuous the way you were virtuous. But I was doing a dangerous thing, and soon I was in over my head. I felt genuine affection for you, but I wasn't supposed to love you because of what I was. Somehow I let you get too close, and even worse, you reciprocated those feelings. I panicked. I tried to break it off before it could get worse that day on the battlements. All I could say was I didn't deserve you which was the absolute truth, yet I couldn't tell you why. It was hard to disappoint you that way, but I thought it would be even harder to disappoint you with the truth.

"Finally, I decided to try and come clean because I wanted you so badly and you still had not given up on me. If it was going to continue, you had to know. I took you to the Storm Coast to show you that piece of my past, at least the more respectable piece. But when I was standing there looking at those remains, and when you found the real Blackwall's badge, telling me I was so clumsy for dropping it…I lost all my nerve. I couldn't find the strength to tell you the badge was not mine. All I could do was curse myself and try to get you to do what I could not: end any possibility of us being together. You refused and I let myself be swept in." His eyes closed, as if revisiting the beautiful memory. "My lady, when I kissed you, that was the happiest I had ever been since Calliet. But it was still tinged with fear, always fear. If you knew what I had done, if you knew how I hadn't been honest, you would be hurt and how could I fix it when I was the cause of it? So it became a vicious cycle of dodging questions and redirecting attention the more we got involved in Warden affairs, which made it even more impossible to turn back. Yet even though I wanted to keep you from worrying, my deceit caused you to worry even more when you learned about the Calling. What could I say to make it better?"

"I wanted to punch you for brushing it off," she growled, clenching her fists. "I was so worried I'd lose you like all the other Grey Wardens were lost, but you just shrugged and said Corypheus would never have you. Like it was so easy! Actually it was, because you never had a Calling to begin with! Now that you bring it up, there's another sore point..."

He bowed his head. "I trapped myself without any good options because I didn't take the opportunity to confess earlier. I'm truly sorry for making you worry. That...always made me feel sick, even though I pretended to be strong and kept changing the topic. Shit, I am too good at pretending for my own good!" He rubbed his temples with a sigh.

"I learned about Mornay and I knew I could not run, even the coward I am. I was sad, worried, had a huge weight on my shoulders when you found me that night, and all you could think about was how to make me feel better. Like I deserved that… You pulled me close and told me you wanted to share my burden, even if things couldn't work out in the long run. I…I wanted a taste of heaven before being condemned to hell even though I never should have. What you told me was true; I had no right because I couldn't even be honest with myself, much less you. You made yourself vulnerable but I did not do the same. I'm so sorry, Malika, when I made love to you I wronged you…" His long exposition was cut off as his voice choked on the words. She opened her mouth to say something, but couldn't come up with the words to say.

"I know, even as I try to make things right and try to come clean, you have all the rights in the world to not believe a word I say any longer. But if there is even the smallest chance that you would believe just one thing that comes from my mouth, I want it to be this: I love you. No matter what lies I spoke, that never was one, not even for an instant. Telling you I didn't love you was the lie, perhaps the most despicable one, and I am still ashamed I said such a thing even if I meant well. And then…" he paused, his face contorting in pain, "to hear you tell me how you had been abused, how you thought I was the best thing that had ever happened to you and I just betrayed you… That broke me more than anything else could. You who I never wanted to hurt, but ended up hurting the most. I love you but look what I did to you…" He hung his head in shame. "How can you even say that you love someone like me? I'm no better than the bastards that used you in the Carta…"

To his surprise, she grasped him firmly on the shoulders and forcefully shook him. "Thom, don't you ever compare yourself to them! You are NOT like them, believe me!"

"I'm…not?" he squinted, unconvinced.

Her hands fell from his shoulders to grasp his hands and massage them with her thumbs. "You know, it is your turn to show me your true intentions…"

"My turn?" he murmured in disbelief, studying her face carefully.

She nodded. "You gave me everything last night, let me do whatever I wanted. I have never had that kind of freedom. So, I guess the next thing to do is…let you have your way with me and see what you do."

"You would let me do that so soon?" he said incredulously, folding his arms.

She looked away. "It's foolish, I know. But…I have to know. The way I showed you everything I felt for you, I need you to show me."

This he finally understood. Words had too often been used to deceive, but there was no faking the intimacy she had given him the night before. There would be no faking his own at this moment. "Very well, my lady. My words are cheap. What are your rules?"

"There is just one thing: keep your pants on. I'm not ready to join with you yet, not until you show me your intentions tonight."

He nodded. "That makes much more sense, to be honest. And I have another limit for myself, if you don't mind."

"What is that?" she arched an eyebrow.

"As powerful as it was to hand over all control to you last night, unable to reach out and touch you, I don't want you in the same position. That is not what you need. That is not what I need. You need to be able to feel free, to feel like you have the choice, and I need to feel like you want to be here, not kept against your will in any way. Not after how I took advantage of you last time." He looked downcast to remember his deception.

She reached forward and held his bearded face in her hands. "We were both at fault for it. But I agree. Thank you for considering it."

He looked into her glowing green eyes. Damn, but they always seemed so gentle when looking into his... Oh, he had plenty to show this woman. "Now…" He scooped her up, her small frame easy to cradle in his arms. She instinctively reached around his neck and they stared into each other's' faces, both flushing. He held her close to his chest, treasuring her. "Are you ready?" His voice was low, gravelly. It was that voice she had only heard once before, the night he bedded her, and it had the same effect on her now as it had then, despite everything that had transpired since.

"I am," she agreed shyly, completely out of character for the brash Inquisitor. His gaze made her stomach churn, and she swallowed. Grunting in agreement, he moved over to the bed and laid her down. Then, he began unbuttoning her jacket. Before she could start unwrapping her bindings, his hands were already behind her back undoing them, as if he were in a great hurry to undress her. She felt electricity as his fingers grazed her skin. The bandages were pulled away in no time, revealing her chest. He reached forward and cupped her full breasts.

"Very nice," he whispered in her ear appreciatively, the smell of ale wafting on his warm breath. However, he noticed that she shuddered. Not in a good way, not in a way that meant she was aroused. In a way that indicated a bad memory had floated too close to the surface. Damn, he had to tone back the lustful comments…

Quickly he removed his hands. His eyes were anxious, looking for any further signs of distress. When she looked up at him, she seemed to calm herself, and he felt relieved that the sight of him could even do that. Satisfied the moment was past, he shrugged off his shirt and crawled over her diminutive frame. Pulling back on the pure desire he felt, he kept his first kisses soft, gentle, allowing her to decide just how hard she wanted to push back. He cradled her face in his hands, gradually running his fingers through her hair and massaging her cheeks with his thumbs as he kissed her deeply. He did not invade her mouth, but somehow she felt the restrained desire all the same. This was a slow burn, not a blaze, and it was a first.

When he pulled back, her expression was dazed. "I never told you what I was thinking that night in the loft, when you exposed your body for the first time. I was stunned by how beautiful you are under that warrior exterior," he murmured with a smoldering gaze, leaning down and running his teeth lightly along her jawline until his mouth was right against her ear. "Just beautiful…" he whispered. He couldn't see her eyes fly open at that comment. Moving his hands down to massage her shoulders, he moved to her neck, planting soft kisses there where she was vulnerable. But something was wrong; he could feel her shaking. Again, it wasn't from arousal, it was too soon. Concerned, he stopped what he was doing and studied her face. To his shock, tears were streaming down.


	17. She Will Be Loved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned: angst (NOT against each other!) and physical intimacy in equal measure. Cadash enlightens all with more information about her backstory and all the ways that affects her ability to be loved. But gosh darn if Blackwall isn't going to get her past that! :)

"M-my lady, did I say something wrong? Did I do something wrong?" he demanded in a panicked voice, again holding her face in his hands and wiping away tears with his thumbs.

She sniffled, unable to speak at first, and her helpless condition pissed her off. Malika Cadash was always in control. Life had sucked before the Inquisition, but she was used to it. Nothing about it could hurt her. So why now, why after everything was she cracking? It was not until he pressed his lips to her forehead that she finally found the strength to reveal the source of her discomfort. "Beautiful?" she stammered, barely able to even form the word. "That…can't be…"

"Is that so surprising, my lady? Surely that's not the first time you've heard that…"

"I…" Her eyes clouded with more tears and she turned on her side to look away. Drawing a shaky breath, she began her broken narrative. "One day…mishap...with another spy, I…dodged a blow…grazed my eye…" As she spoke, he found himself tracing the scar over her right brow.

"You can't mean…"

"I escaped, but when I got back to our base trying to stop the bleeding... Boss told me I was worth less. No common lady would have such a scar, I couldn't get information from sleeping with anyone. Said..." She gritted her teeth, bracing herself to admit to one of the hardest truths. His gentle hand on her shoulder pushed her forward. "Said I was always plain, but now I was ugly. I'd have to make it up to him by…" She hugged her chest and squeezed her eyes shut. He'd figure the rest.

"That miserable son of a bitch," he growled in a low, dangerous voice. She couldn't see his face the way she was turned, yet she could picture from his tone what it must look like: eyes cold and narrowed, contemplating violence, mouth pulled into a deep frown, nose flaring in fury. That expression didn't appear often, but she'd seen it before when she was threatened in battle. Of that image she was sure, yet somehow the hand on her shoulder remained as gentle as before. Slowly he guided her back to face him and pulled her into his chest in a tight embrace, rubbing her back while rocking slowly. His chin rested on her head so she fit perfectly.

From somewhere inside her protective cocoon, she admitted painfully, "To answer your question, yes. It is a first. I'm not beautiful. I've got a woman's body and little else of appeal." Against her desires, more tears cascaded down her cheeks.

"No! They've brainwashed you, the sodding…" He suddenly stilled. "Wait! You don't…think I'm lying, do you? I…realize I've been known to do that in the past, but this…" he asked urgently, pulling her back to look into her red-rimmed eyes. She stared at him for the longest moment, analyzing everything there was in his blue-gray depths. Fear was at the forefront, with concern a close second. They did not waiver from her gaze for one second. Biting her lip, she shook her head 'no'. He breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, thank the Maker. Now listen to me, Malika. You are beautiful with that scar that says you've survived a hard life, and everything else about you." He tenderly planted a kiss on the scar. "That no-nonsense silvery hair…You know I've never seen hair that color before. It fascinates me…" he ran the fingers of one hand through her hair, giving her shivers. "Those feisty green eyes that for whatever reason sparkle when they are looking at me. It leaves me breathless. And Maker's balls, those smirking, pouty lips…I just want to steal the expression right off your face." He leaned forward and softly kissed her, pulling at her bottom lip. She melted into his kiss, hands pressed against his chest.

Finally, he broke it. "Are you okay, or should we stop for tonight? I don't' want to upset you by bringing up these bad memories…"

"Thom," she said with a shaky voice, "I want you to replace them. It won't be easy at first, but I need this. Please, don't stop."

"As you say, my lady. But we'll start like this…" He pulled her off of him and turned her around so her back was pressed against his chest and she felt his breath against her ear. "I want to keep you close to me. I want you to feel safe," he explained softly. He scooted so his back was against the headboard, and satisfied with his position, he began to tease her. She gasped and unconsciously arched her back to push further into his hands. As he worked, his mouth found her neck once more and sucked hungrily. Her head lolled to the side, leaving him full access.

With a final squeeze, his hands moved down, splaying across her stomach. "May I get you naked?" he whispered in her ear, as seductively as possible.

"Yes," was her breathy response.

With this consent, he undid the ties fastening her pants and slid both hands in and under her small clothes. To help him, she braced herself on his thighs and raised her hips so he could slide her pants off and toss them aside. He hugged her waist. "Tell me, My Lady," his voice interrupted her thoughts. "Has any man even bothered to pleasure you?"

"No, Thom," she admitted quietly.

"Fucking bastards," he cursed, running his fingertips up and down her bare thighs. The anger in his voice and the light touches made her shudder. "You deserve so much better. I will give you a taste of exactly what you deserve." With that said, he began to touch her in ways she had never experienced from a partner, ways that left her breathless and faint. Somehow he knew just where to put pressure, where to stroke. He'd probably done it before to other partners. While that thought interrupted her reverie with a flash of jealousy, she couldn't deny she was happy for his experience. His expert fingers pushed her to the snapping point far quicker than she could have ever done to herself. With a cry, she came, and all she could do in her helplessness was to clutch his thighs until she thought her nails might cause him to bleed and press backwards into his chest.

When it was over, he pulled the dazed woman off his lap and eased her back down onto the bed. Before anything else, he jumped off the bed. "Forgive me My Lady, I know you said to keep my pants on, but do I have your permission to…" He didn't finish, but she saw how red his face was.

"Just by touching me?" she wondered breathlessly as she looked on in wide-eyed surprise.

"By touching you, by hearing your cries, by watching your face as you came undone," he panted, the thought of it seeming to drive him mad. "Maker the things you do to me…"

"Go ahead. But…I want to watch," she swallowed.

He nodded. Quickly undoing his trousers, his eyes bore into her as he grasped himself and began to move furiously. His eyes on her made her blush, like the image of her alone could push him so far. "Thom…" she called softly, her breath catching as if his look had physically touched her.

Hearing her words pushed him past the tipping point. "Yes!" he hissed, finding his release and throwing his head back. He sank to his knees as he shook, chest heaving. "Maker, Malika…"

She had just come not minutes before, but this display of his need for her wound her up once again. She shifted, wishing to continue. He had shown her new heights and somehow she was...greedy for more. "Thom, I don't know how to ask this. Could you please…"

"Clean up the mess? Yes, of course My Lady," he said. The look in his eye revealed that he knew what she wanted to say but was going to ignore it for the time being. She nearly growled in frustration as he pulled his pants back up and left to find a rag.

When he returned, he quickly wiped up his mess with a smug smile. "Spilled for you, you understand that, don't you?" he asked teasingly. She nodded more eagerly than she would have liked, causing him to chuckle. It hit her right in the gut. Dropping the rag, he crawled back onto the bed and lay down next to her so he could look into her eyes. "I can tell you aren't used to feelings like this," he mused, suddenly looking a little sad. "There's only so much you can do yourself." He reached over and caressed her face.

"Have you…made women come undone like that often?" she asked in a small voice.

He shook his head. "I know how to rub them the right way, but have I ever just sat a woman down and pleasured her without taking pleasure in return? No. I was a selfish bastard, you recall. But," he paused and traced her cheek adoringly, "that man is long dead. And if all you ever allowed me for the rest of my life was to touch you, I would be more than content."

"Well, it could be the inexperience talking, but damn…" she closed her eyes, recalling the powerful feelings that rocked her mere minutes before. Her insides were still clenching. "I'd be more than content too."

"Like I said, the bar was never set very high," he frowned. "Is that part of what you were going to tell me tonight anyhow?"

She looked away. "I suppose so."

"Now would be a good time, you know," he encouraged, his expression serious. Gently, he pulled the covers over her naked body, as if giving her security.

She sighed, waves of pleasure evaporating. "Very well. It's time you heard it from me. You know I was in the Carta."

"I've known for a very long time, back when we were still in Haven," he admitted.

"You…?" she started, then sighed again. "I suppose people talk. Josephine has tried to keep it hush hush, but there aren't a whole lot of career options for a surface dwarf, and the merchant cast would quickly tell you I'm not one of them."

"Actually, in the Hinterlands, when we broke into that Carta stronghold, I…stumbled across a letter from one of the agents."

"You…that long ago, you knew? And in that way?" she whispered. "I'm sure the letter was hardly complementary of me."

"It was most slanderous, yes. I felt great satisfaction knowing we probably killed the bastard."

"What did it say?" she pressed.

He contemplated. "It accused you of not knowing your place, of becoming self-important and conning everyone with your Herald "act"." He snorted. "Morons obviously didn't know you were denying it the entire time."

"But if you knew since…oh." She looked crestfallen. "You thought I was perhaps in your league given my background."

"No! That's not it!" he asserted in agitation, shaking his head vehemently. "I mean, I'll admit it gave me more hope that you might…understand. But I knew you weren't a self-righteous person with or without the background. You could have been a princess, a merchant's daughter, or a beggar off the street, it didn't matter in how I felt about you as a person."

Her eyes pierced him, trying to find the truth of the statement. "You would not have done anything different if you hadn't seen that letter?"

"Would you have done anything different if I wasn't a Warden from the start?" he retorted. "Or did you only care for me because of my title?"

If when she met him, he had been a man just like any other, no fabled name attached to him, defining him… "You would have been a strong man, a brave warrior, someone who I could speak plainly to, who wouldn't judge," she responded slowly. "I would have had feelings for you."

"And you would have been an independent, resourceful woman who would not tolerate crap from anyone and would stand up for justice with the power you were given. I loved that. The only difference is that perhaps I had more courage to act on it, nothing more," he stated simply. "And thinking about what-ifs is useless."

"You're right," she finally concluded. "But you don't know all the details, surely not."

"No, none at all. And I wish to hear them from you, not from some second-hand source that couldn't possibly know the truth. And…I want to know what makes you hurt, what makes you flinch, so I never cause that again. I've had all the wrong ideas for so long, thinking lies hurt less than truth, and even just now, one wrong turn of phrase and you wince like a nightmare has come to life again. I don't ever want to hurt you, Malika Cadash, so I have to know. Everything. Please." His eyes begged.

She bit her lip, nodding. "Very well Thom, it's long overdue. I should have told you before we slept together. In that I am as guilty as you."

He put a finger to her lips. "No talk of guilt. You tell me to move forward, now you need to live by your own words, My Lady."

She nodded. "I was born on the surface, the unwanted child of some topside Cadash branch Carta member. I never knew who my parents were; I was apparently a burden to my mother and my father probably never knew I existed. The clan wanted me though. Children can be shaped into the perfect tools. I was raised within the organization and trained from an early age in stealth and cunning. A female with no family was a dispensable pawn for gathering information. In addition to training as a thief, I was taught how to read and write, how to act within the outside world, how to flirt, how to…" Her face contorted in pain. "How to please a man in bed…" His hand found her face and stroked her cheek, face equally pained. "But, you know, that was the norm. I was not nearly the only one undergoing this training.

"I began with simple work as a child: picking pockets and gathering secrets. No one would suspect a child, much less a dwarven child. When I outgrew that use, my jobs shifted to…persuasion. Someone who could seal deals within the Carta by offering…my body," she continued weakly, unable to look him in the eye. "Sometimes that, sometimes to get information from tight lips. Get a man hot and heavy and he says things he wouldn't otherwise. Mostly dwarves, but there were humans and elves as well. They might publically scorn a dwarf, but a cunt is a cunt no matter the race."

"Shit," he breathed in horror. He seemed to wish to say more, but refrained until she could finish.

"The incident with the spy," she paused, pointing at her right eye, "happened when I was 24. Like I said, after that I was no longer able to persuade in the way I was needed to. My tasks shifted again to straight up espionage, getting information by remaining unseen, breaking and entering. Sometimes sabotage if the situation called for it. That is how I ended up at the Conclave; I was supposed to be the eyes and ears for the organization, and no one knew I was present when everything went down."

"Fate is such a strange thing," he wondered, reaching over to hold her. "Of all the people that could have interfered, it was you, the one who was not meant to be there, the one those clerics would have called sinful and heathen. And it is you who are saving the world now. I know after our trip to the Fade you feel more strongly than ever that the Maker could not have had a hand in anything, but…could something so rare occur on its own without a hand guiding it? You know I'm…not the most religious man. But things like this, the way everything has played out, the way you ended up here, the way I ended up here, our lives such a broken mess yet finding…" He stopped, not wanting to speak for her. "Well, at least for me, finding the one person able to fix it." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "You must stop thinking you are nothing special. It's not easy, I know that better than anyone, but you are the world to me, Malika, and you mean so much to everyone around you. Life dealt you a horrible hand, but when given the opportunity, you rose above it. I can't imagine my life without you in it."

"Thom…"

"Now, you have done as I've asked, as painful as it was. I think it is time to get your mind off of the dark past and focus on something…pleasurable. Do you agree My Lady?"

"You wish to…pleasure me again?" She could feel the heat rush into her cheeks instantly.

"Oh Maker, yes. If you wish it, of course." His eyes had that glint again, the one that let her know his hunger.

Wordlessly, she nodded. Receiving her permission, he pulled the covers back off of her. To admire her body, he gave a smirk that left her flushed. "Tell me exactly what you want, Malika. I want to hear it from your lips," he challenged.

"Ugh, Thom, do I really…ahh!" Her reply was interrupted by a cry of delight as his tongue began to wander.

"Your body is so responsive, starved for attention. Just say the word, Malika," he retorted. "Tell me what you want."

"You know what I want," she growled, trying not to respond to his mouth in such a wanton fashion. It didn't work. Taking the cue, he sucked, hands holding her shoulders onto the bed. As much as she moaned, he was no better, lost in his desire.

"Admit it, Malika, or this is as far as I go," he warned, shifting. "I will tease you all night but never push you far enough…" With that, he resumed his torment.

"Why?" she demanded, squirming under his tongue.

He finally raised his head. "For both of us." Then he pressed his mouth to hers, ravishing her with his tongue in her mouth. As he kissed, his hands kneaded her breasts greedily. Her response was to grasp his head and hold him to her face, nibbling his bottom lip. After a moment of this, he broke away. "Shit, you're going to break me before I break you at this rate…" he muttered sheepishly.

"No! Thom! Don't stop, please!" she finally implored. She hadn't thought she could need him any more than she did the night before, but was quickly finding out she had been incorrect.

"And what do you want me to do for you?" he demanded gruffly, pressing his forehead against hers.

She scowled. "Give me another orgasm."

His smile was triumphant. "Of course, My Lady. You should have said so earlier. I will do whatever you ask of me, you know that. You just need to allow yourself to ask." That being said, he moved down between her legs. "See, there's even more I find beautiful," he stated slyly, bending down to kiss the inside of her thighs. Heavens, his beard tickled! She wriggled, but he held her fast with his hands pressing flat against her stomach. When he had almost kissed his way up, he moved to the other side and started the process all over again. It made her sweat, the attention he was giving her there, but in the back of her mind she knew it was going to get even more intense…

"I assume based on what you've told me that no one has ever used their mouth." Mouth? There? She had heard it was done on occasion, but she had certainly never been given that experience. Her stomach flipped, unsure of what that would be like, imagining... She didn't even realize a gasp escaped her, making him chuckle. Damn, he was always so sexy when he chuckled like that, the deep baritone vibrating in his chest… "Let me worship you like no other has. Like you deserve." Carefully he nudged her legs apart and bent his head down.

It was beyond anything she had ever felt. At times she instinctively moved to deny him further access; this was easily rebuffed. The build was so quick and so powerful… Gritting her teeth so she wouldn't scream, she gripped the sheets in her hands as she released all the built tension, giving a silent sob of ecstasy. But he wouldn't stop! He kept her riding that dizzying height with his actions, fully intending to give her the hugest climax of her life. Eventually, tears of ecstasy did fall, however, and as soon as he eased up and lifted his head, he noticed.

"Malika, did I hurt you? Was I too rough?" All she could do was shake her head as she trembled, breathing erratic and skin flushed. He gently placed a hand on her forehead, encouraging her to calm down. "Maybe it was too much at once. I should have quit while I was ahead." She shook her head again, but now she reached out for him. It confused him; she should not be so desperate to cling to him, even if she was giving him a chance to redeem himself. Still, he obeyed her wish and settled on the bed next to her. Before he could worry about whether he should or should not pull her into his arms, she was already pressed against his chest. "Malika…" he whispered, his lips awkwardly kissing her head. "Did I do it right?"

She had no words, but a telling smile played upon her lips. The entire experience had left her exhausted. Using the last of her strength, she shakily reached around his waist and pulled him closer to her. Then, she fell asleep.

He stared at the sleeping woman holding him like she never wanted to let go, and suddenly tears stung his eyes. He felt reasonably sure he had done it right, whatever it was. But that should not be enough to earn forgiveness, just because he addressed her sexual needs the way no one else had. Had he actually done anything to help her with her demons? One thing was for sure: consequences be damned, he was not leaving her side tonight.


	18. Letting Go of Pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On today's menu, the conversation wanted Cadash to have with Josephine, because out of everyone in the Inquisition she would be the most understanding and give the best advice. As I've mentioned a lot, Cadash isn't dealing with things in a conventional, healthy way, and Josie needs to bring that to her attention. Also, I had a request to include a Dorian/Blackwall apology scene. I admit, I borrowed a lot from the game in this regard because I really liked how it was handled in party banter. I just fleshed it out a bit, so sorry if that disappoints!

Rainier had always been an early riser. Came from being a military man, he supposed. By the time she stirred to life as golden sunlight filtered past the curtains, he had already washed up, dressed, and stoked the fire. He would have been out the door too if he wasn't so worried she'd wake up without him present. Last night had been difficult for her, he knew that better than anyone, and if she was going to entrust him with that knowledge, he damn well wasn't going to ruin it by running off again. So, the first thing a half-conscious Cadash noticed was a weight settling next to her on the bed. With a mighty yawn and a stretch, she turned to see if it was who she thought it was. She had never been happier to be correct.

"Good morning, My Lady," he murmured quietly, grazing her cheek with a rough hand. "Did I wear you out enough?"

"Did you…" she blinked, organizing her thoughts. Then, she recalled the events of the past evening. Confessions between bouts of indulgence. She suddenly felt warm. "In more ways than one I guess. I don't even remember…were you here all night?"

"I stayed," he said seriously. "Though, when you finally let go of me, I moved over to the couch."

"Oh." She didn't know what to make of that. On one hand, she was beyond happy he hadn't left her once she fell asleep, even under the pretense of saving face. On the other, he still felt the need to separate himself from her?

He interrupted her thoughts. "I need to go before everyone starts waking up. Need to get ready. We are still on for Emprise du Lion today, correct?" She nodded. "Then I'd better make sure my armor hasn't rusted from disuse!" He rose from the bed, but before he turned to leave, he bent down and kissed her softly on the cheek. Thom didn't usually act like that, and Malika was no sap either, but it seemed so natural he hadn't even thought it through. Maybe that was how it was for people who didn't keep secrets… "I will see you at the gate, My Lady." Her eyes followed him as he disappeared down the steps, door opening and shutting with a click.

Thom hadn't taken three steps out the door when he found himself face to face with Josephine. The ambassador was wide awake, fully dressed in the usual fashion, and carrying a tray with steaming breakfast. It was lucky he hadn't collided with her and ended up wearing it! Of course, the fact that she was there at all was jarring enough. "L-lady Montilyet…" he stammered, wide-eyed. Quickly, he ducked his head. Caught red-handed.

Her dark eyes were clear and calm. "Good morning. I didn't expect to see you, or else I would have brought some more food." She looked down at the tray. "Perhaps Lady Cadash will not miss one of the apples…"

Maker. Of course she didn't expect to see him sneaking out of the Inquisitor's quarters… "N-no, don't worry about it, I don't eat much for breakfast." He ran his fingers through his hair nervously. "I…know I haven't been to see you yet, but…if there's anything you need from me…just say the word and I'll…"

"Tell me what I should call you," was her simple request, ignoring his flailing.

That he wasn't prepared for. "Ummm, Blackwall," he muttered. No, that needed more explanation. "I mean, I know that sounds bad but…it's like a title. Something to live up to. Maybe someday…"  
"Of course, Ser Blackwall. As you wish," the woman interrupted. "And as for what else I might need of you, not much. Just keep doing what you are doing, and I will defend you." Josephine considered her friend's words to her from the day before. "Not only as the Inquisition's ambassador, but because I want to. Because I believe in you." She noticed with amusement that he did little to hide his stunned expression at this statement. Luckily, Josie was ever merciful. "Ser Blackwall, don't you have to go prepare for the mission? You'd best not stand around."

"R-right. Thank you, Lady Montilyet." He bowed his head once more and hurried down the stairs, grateful that if anyone had to catch him, it was her. He always knew she was kind, but a reaction like that to a man three days out of prison emerging from their leader's bedroom was downright benevolent. And perhaps even better, she was not prone to spread this bit of gossip with less benevolent individuals... Did that brief exchange count as making amends?

Meanwhile, Josephine ascended the last few stairs and knocked at the Inquisitor's door. It opened immediately, revealing a hastily dressed Cadash. It was immediately noted that she had accidentally buttoned her jacket incorrectly in her rush. "Good morning Lady Cadash. I do not believe for one moment that you have been up for more than two minutes," she laughed, holding out her tray. Malika blushed and grabbed it from her.

"Can you blame me? My last night on a decent bed before roughing it for a while. Sleeping in sounded good…" she attempted lamely.

"Also your last night in…privacy," the Antivan said lightly, studying her friend's face for a reaction.

Malika tried her best not to give one. She used to be good at her poker face, but those days were long gone, it seemed. "Yes, privacy where I don't have to listen to anyone snoring and can sleep in my small clothes without people walking in on me."

If she tried to shock Josephine, it didn't work. She just kept playing the game. "So I take it then that Ser Blackwall did not in fact walk in on you just now?"

"He always knocks," she muttered hastily, studying the food on the tray in front of her.

"Funny, Lady Inquisitor, you implied not a moment ago that you had just gotten out of bed…"

Finally, Cadash hung her head. "Why am I playing this game with our star diplomat? You politically maneuver entire nations for an occupation! Get in here Josie." With a victorious grin, Josephine obliged, following Cadash to her table and taking a seat next to her. "So what do you want to know?" Malika sighed, taking a bite of the eggs resting before her.

Josie rested her chin on the knuckles of one hand, an unusually casual display for the proper woman. "I haven't come to discuss politics, if that's what you are wondering. I have, however, come to talk to you as your friend before you leave on your trip. You mentioned you might be interested in taking me up on that offer, but perhaps I won't wait for you to decide…"

She swallowed. "So the breakfast was bribery to talk, huh?"

"Being hungry makes people less inclined to converse. And who knows how long it will be before you return? There are things that should probably be discussed before then."

"You think I'm being completely idiotic about him," the dwarf supplied, frowning and poking at her breakfast.

Josephine shook her head. "I'm not a judge. And I can't very well tell you what is best for you without knowing more about what you've gone through in your life or what the two of you have gone through behind closed doors. I can be worried for a friend though, can't I?"

"What exactly do you think is going on between us?" she investigated carefully, squinting and taking another mouthful.

She nearly choked when Josephine retorted. "I don't THINK some very…shall we say…delicate… things are going on; I know for a fact they are." She paused to offer her sputtering comrade a napkin. "You do know your room is more or less above my office, and I was working late last night…" In all her years, Malika had never turned as red as she was in that moment.

"Whatever you are thinking, it's not like that! We didn't…I mean…we didn't sleep together! He was on my couch. But even before we fell asleep, we didn't…"

"Calm down, Lady Cadash. I'm not here to rake you over the coals!" Josephine soothed, gently placing her hand on Cadash's arm. "You don't have to tell me exactly what you did and how you did it; it's no one's business but yours. I'm only worried that you did something before you were ready. His trial WAS only three days ago, and I know that flipped your whole world around on its head. Is that a fair statement?"

Suddenly, Malika's next thoughts jumped to pity. She hated pity. "You think this whole thing has made me lose my judgement? And I need someone's help?" Even though she knew Josephine was not that way, she instinctively became defensive and clenched her fists.

Josephine's eyes opened wide. "Is that truly what you think of me? What did I ever do to you to give you that impression?"

She inhaled slowly and heaved a long sigh as she looked at her innocent and offended expression. "Josie, I am messed up. Surely you've realized that much about me by now even though I don't talk about it, right?"

"That wouldn't be the phrase I use, but I understand what you mean," she replied cautiously.

"You know, despite all the time that has passed, some days I still look over my shoulder thinking someone is out to get me. I don't talk about it with people. When we started this Inquisition business, I didn't want to share anything with anyone; I assumed everyone was out to use me and the mark on my hand like people have always used me. I don't feel that way anymore, but now it seems there's never an opportune time to come out and say 'Hey Josie, did you know I was abandoned by my parents and raised as a tool within the Carta?'." She let that sink in. "I started forgetting the past and living for the now, and at least at first it made me happier than I've ever been. I thought that was going to work out all right. But with Rainier, it turned out to be a huge mistake. I should have told him about my past when we started getting serious, when I realized I loved him, but we both danced around our issues."

"Is that why you were so quick to give him another chance?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's not nearly all of it, but it is part of it." She sat up straight. "Look, I'll tell you something personal because I trust you, Josie. This is not gossip to leave this room, and HE sure doesn't need to know I'm telling you this. Will you keep it secret?"

"As long as it doesn't hurt anyone," was her friend's careful reply, ever the shrewd diplomat.

She shook her head. "Before his big reveal, we did 'it' once. Literally, right before everything blew up. All those rumors I pretend not to hear about me sleeping with him frequently before he was caught are grossly exaggerated. For one, we didn't want our reputations to suffer by drawing attention to ourselves, or being unprofessional. Secondly, we were playing it cautious; we didn't want to get in over our heads when we had so much we were holding back, in retrospect. Now, we are getting to know each other for real. That leaves us vulnerable in more ways than one, as you I am sure have…heard." She cleared her throat awkwardly. "We haven't done 'it' again, though I will admit we have done other things of that nature, but our relationship has gone further in three days than it had in four months. There is nothing about what we are doing that comes from straight up lust or angst or…"

"Every action has been carefully considered," Josephine concluded, then sighed. "You know, that actually makes me feel a bit jealous of him. He's finally gotten you to talk about yourself. He's probably the only one that knows all your secrets. But I am thankful you told me as much as you have. It…means so much to me, Malika, that you trust me like this. As I said before, I'm not going to tell you anything you are doing is wrong; it sounds like it is exactly what you need, and who am I to disagree? Who is anyone to disagree? Just assure me of one thing: he is not pushing for anything?"

"He's pushing for the truth from me and nothing more. I'm the one that ends up taking us those…more controversial paths," she nodded seriously. "And it took a lot of persuading to get him to follow."

"I thought as much. He is always the gentleman." She stood up. "I will leave you to your breakfast then. Thank you for your time."

Malika stood up too. "No, thank you for yours. I…you were right. I needed this. I know I don't always make the best decisions, and it's good to know someone with a brain is looking out for me."

"Will you please consider slowing things down a bit while you are on your mission?"

Malika snorted. "Hey, missions are serious business. Besides, people are always watching…" Josephine did not look impressed, so she tried again more serious. "What I mean is, I think this is the perfect time to get some space, be with other people, and all that. I promise I won't incite anything while we are gone; that should give us plenty of time to get our act together."

This was met with an affirming nod. "I truly don't mean to pry. I just don't want you getting hurt, even if neither of you means for it to happen." She turned to leave when Malika interrupted once more.  
"And Josephine, thank you for how you handled him in the hallway when you got here. It means a lot to me."

The ambassador let out a soft giggle. "I knew you were eavesdropping…"

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Now fully equipped in his freshly-polished armor and hauling his duffel slung over his shoulder, he marched resolutely to the front gate where the team was to meet up. His stride faltered slightly when he realized he had beaten everyone there with the exception of one: Dorian Pavus. The mage's nose was in a book at the moment as he leaned against the stone wall, pack resting on the ground at his feet and staff leaning against his shoulder. Involuntarily, Rainier's pulse quickened. Good, he hadn't noticed his approach. That gave him time to consider just how he was going to handle this…

Even on a normal day when he hadn't been exposed for a liar and a murderer, the two fought like cats and dogs. Dorian was a well-groomed and preening mage with what appeared to be a superiority complex. At least, that was what he had thought at first. If he was being honest, every day the man was proving through actions (and certainly despite his condescending words) that he would die for the Inquisition's cause, that he would fight against his homeland if they proved to be extremists, that he wanted to change his country's sometimes flawed ideology. Even if he was fastidious in how he cleaned himself up, he was getting his hands dirty. Before, Rainier refused to see it; he called him a spoiled prince, a pompous brat, and implied on many occasions that he was too far up on his high-horse. Now, humbled, he knew besides the usual apologies he had more to apologize for. He just hoped Dorian wouldn't shove his words back in his face in the most condescending way possible.

His spinning brain was interrupted when Dorian spoke without looking up from his text. "You are staring, you know that?"

He winced. Thinking time was over, it seemed. He cleared his throat. "I-I'm sorry. But, not just for that. I…"

"Hold on, before you get started, allow me." Dorian snapped his book shut and studied the nervous man before him with a keen eye. "I've been thinking."

Rainier groaned, eyes rolling up towards the heavens. "Oh, this should be good."

"I was ABOUT to say you're too hard on yourself, Blackwall. Or whatever your name is."

"'Blackwall' will do. But, hold on. Too hard on myself? Is this setting up a punchline?"

"You're not the thug I thought you were. You're not the thug ANYONE thought you were." This quip seemed to amuse him as a wry smile broke over his face.

He sighed. "Here it comes…" Without realizing it, he was clenching his fists and bracing himself for the impact of the stinging words he knew were coming. But they didn't.

"Point is: you should let yourself off the hook. I know bad men, and you're not one."

He blinked, stupefied. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine Dorian would have anything nice to say to him! Sincere even! Finally, he stammered, "I'm not sure how to respond." Like that wasn't obvious…

Dorian gave a low chuckle. "Of course not. Let's not go crazy with defying expectations. But, all jabs aside, I realize now that I hit a nerve with the whole 'murderer Grey Warden' business."

"Is that so?" He still couldn't believe his ears. In the back of his mind, he knew Dorian was enjoying watching him squirm, and he was still pulling that off even by being nice.

"I'm saying I understand wanting to atone for one's actions. Enough to know when I've stepped in it. So, I apologize."

"You…don't have to apologize to me, Dorian."

"People who say that to me are usually wrong."

"No, I am the one that was here to apologize. I am indeed a murderer. And I escaped my past to become a warden, like many others before me. You were right about it even if it was a raw nerve to hit."

"Look, obviously the original Blackwall saw something in you. I respect that."

Rainier hardly heard him, he was so deep into what he really wanted to say. And the hardest part was still coming. "And you, you abandoned your life of privilege for the sake of principle alone."

"I didn't like that life," was his simple response.

"It was wrong of me to lump you in with peers you hardly resemble. I'm sorry, Dorian."

He raised a perfectly-groomed eyebrow. "Truce, then?"

Could it really be that easy? Everything in his voice, his posture, his eyes, seemed to indicate there were no hidden agendas in this offering. It was almost uncharacteristic, but he would be lying to say he didn't enjoy it. "Gladly." He extended his hand to shake. His new…friend…noting the hand was encased in a well-maintained gauntlet, reciprocated the gesture. This was not unnoticed. "And for your information, I did wash up well this morning, so you don't have to worry about the smell of horses or anything." He gave Dorian's hand an extra squeeze.

"Oh no," he replied airily, "You haven't been spending your nights in the hay anymore, so I probably won't have to worry about the stench anymore…" Seeing the man's face blanch, he shook his head with a laugh. "Good for you. It becomes you much more to embrace her offer, literally and figuratively as it were…"

Before he could offer a feeble retort, Varric and Malika sidled over, each dressed for the road and hauling their equipment. "Good morning gentlemen!" she greeted cheerily with a wide smile. "I see team bonding is going well." This time, neither man could think of a comeback as they stared. It's easy to get Blackwall, but getting Pavus…score one point for Cadash, Varric thought, highly amused. "Ready to head out?" Everyone nodded in agreement.

So, they set out across the Frostbacks in the direction of Orlais. As they went, Cadash fingered a scrap of paper tucked in one of her pockets, wondering just how long she should wait before breaking the news to her lover about a certain detour she had arranged for him…


	19. Never Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was putting this chapter off because it was so difficult. I knew I wanted to explore a scene where Rainier goes back to one of the families of the men that died because of him and tries to apologize. After all, it was part of his sentence handed down by Cadash during the trial. I wanted to explore how this could totally backfire. But man, it's not easy to convey the kind of feelings that a wife and mother must feel. As you can imagine, some intense vulgarity ensues.

If she had her way, she would not set foot in Halamshiral again. The last time the Inquisition had arrived in town, well…it wasn't an experience she'd like to repeat. On any other day, she and her squad would skirt around the outside of town as they traversed the Imperial Highway to their destination in Emprise du Lion. As it was, her companions suspected nothing of the errand she had in mind and turned their mounts onto the path south as they reached the crossroads. She gently halted hers with a flick of the reins, stopping at the junction and taking a deep breath. It was time. "Hold, guys."

"What, time for a break?" Varric teased, stopping in his tracks. "But I haven't even worked up a sweat!"

"No, I'll bet she forgot her slippers back in Skyhold," Dorian mused, flashing the kind of smirk he reserved especially for kidding situations. "She'll have to pick up a new pair in town."

The only one not feeling so light-hearted was Rainier, who had already begun dutifully backtracking to where she was stationed. No one could read her as well as he could. They apparently hadn't seen the nervous shifting as she rode, the idle lip-biting as she seemed to ponder something, even the way she was fidgeting with something in her pocket. He had no doubt this was related to her surprise stop. His gut also told him it would have something to do with him. Perhaps it was just the paranoia he'd gotten so accustomed to feeling… The quick glance she gave him said otherwise. He felt his stomach drop and gripped the reins tighter.

"Dream on, Pavus, I didn't pack slippers and I don't plan on wearing slippers. I do need to do something in Halamshiral, though. You and Varric can set up camp; it might take a bit of time and I don't see us leaving town tonight."

Both the Tevinter and the dwarf raised their eyebrows. Neither was going to question why their fourth teammate hadn't been included in the instructions, and their imaginations were filling in the blanks just fine. He was, after all, looking mighty uncomfortable all of a sudden. "All right Cadash, we'll see what we can do. Maybe we'll even have dinner waiting if we're feeling ambitious," Varric agreed, nudging his horse to the side of the road and out of the way.

"Thanks guys. We should see you by nightfall!" With a wave, she spurred her horse into motion and began following the path into the city. She didn't need to look behind to know he was following.  
Once they were out of sight and earshot of the others, she finally slowed her horse down so the two were riding parallel and turned in her saddle to address him. He looked into her eyes as if he desperately wanted to ask what was going on, but kept his mouth pressed shut. Apparently he was waiting to be informed rather than push for more information. "You know, don't you?" Malika began calmly, much more calmly than she felt. He looked miserable.

He ducked his gaze. "You've been on edge all day, and now you and I have an errand in Halamshiral. I suppose the thing you have been playing with in your pocket all day is an address. Am I wrong, My Lady?"

Malika was silent for a moment and resumed her gaze forwards. "Madame Favreau. Wife of the late Monsieur David Favreau." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him visibly wince at the name. Oh yes, he knew.

Thom, as he was learning to refer to himself after so long, had finally been getting all those dark feelings in control. In the last few days, he'd come to see a glimmer of hope through the clouds of despair. Too bad it all seemed to disappear in an instant as she pronounced that name. "Polite young man. Always quick to obey a superior," he intoned flatly, as if staring across time. "Had been married for about a year. She was…" He stopped, unable to finish as he ground his teeth.

"She had a child," Malika supplied. "Not long after the execution." Shit, she didn't want to coddle him; he had to take his punishment. But underneath her manner-of-fact façade, she was already anxious. He looked ready to vomit.

"How far?"

"A couple more miles. They are living just outside the city walls, working land for one of the noble families." She paused. "Do you know what you will say?"

"Hell, no! What does anyone say?!" he growled roughly as he tugged at a fistful of hair. Then, he attempted to inhale deeply. "I mean, I…I'll figure it out, just give me some time to think." Suddenly, he pulled back on the reins so he fell behind again. Despite the temptation to turn back and make sure he was still there, she refused. If he ran now, they were over. Running would prove him to be the same coward he was all those years ago, as if nothing had changed. He had to step up and face his crime no matter how brutal the repercussions would be. But she believed deep down he was not going to even consider running. Not the way he was now. And so she led with her eyes straight ahead, leaving him the space he needed to consider his words.

Within half an hour they arrived at a small homestead. The weathered woman and young girl working the fields paid them no mind as they continued breaking the dirt. It was Madame Favreau, she just knew it. And the girl…that must be the daughter. For the first time, she turned to look behind her. As she expected, there he was not much further behind, head bowed in contemplation, long hair shielding his face. As he got closer, he finally looked up at her. She gave a small smile, trying to encourage him. Andraste knew he needed it.

Once he was at her side, they both silently dismounted and led their horses to the side of the road, tying them to nearby trees. The Favreaus still didn't seem to notice or care. "That's them?" he inquired quietly, beginning to remove his gauntlets.

"I think so," she nodded, studying him curiously. Once the gauntlets were off, he began to remove his armor as well. Baring himself, she thought. He'll take her blows head on if it comes to that. "You going to be okay if I just stand to the side while you do what you need to?"

He nodded grimly. "This is my battle, not yours." Before he could turn to go, she grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly.

"But you're not alone. If you need me, I'm right here."

For the first time since they hit the crossroads, his face softened for just a second. "I'd rather you not watch this, Malika…"

"Can't be helped, you know that."

"Yeah, I do. This was my sentence, and you are my overseer. Just…don't step in. Let me take it all."

She wouldn't say it out loud, but she thought to herself, Unless she tries to murder you. I will not allow that to happen. "I understand." With a final squeeze, she released her hold. "Be strong like I know you are."

Like she knows I am… Damn it all, I wasn't strong until she came along! Without another word, he approached the pair as they worked, one foot in front of the other even though his legs felt like jelly. I'd still be running away if you hadn't given me a reason to stand and face it all. It's not me, it's you… And then, he found himself standing before the woman, who had finally given him notice.

He cleared his throat. "Madame Favreau?"

She planted her hoe in the earth and leaned against it. "Who's asking?" Her tone was biting. He knew without her saying that she had been fending for herself for far too long, that she hadn't heard one bit of good news ever since the day she found out about her husband. He had had a plan, one where he approached the subject more gradually, but all that was forgotten as he reacted to her bitterness.

"Thom Rainier."

The silence that followed was deafening. He had braced himself for a violent impact, but it didn't come. Finally, the widow broke the quiet. "Maddy, I've got a few pennies here. Run to town and fetch two loaves of barley bread for me."

The girl stopped what she was doing and approached her mother. In that brief moment, Rainier found the nerve to study her. Her long brown hair was dirty and stuck to her forehead and neck from the sweat of her labor. She was still small, hadn't hit her growth spurt yet, but she was wiry and strong from all the work she had done. Perhaps the most heart-wrenching part of her were her eyes; bright green, they didn't seem to match the rest of her disheveled appearance as they shone with curiosity. If he hadn't fucked everything up, what kind of life could she have known? What kind of beauty could be revealed under the grime? And those small hands wouldn't be so filled with blisters… "But Mamma, don't we already have…"

"NOW!" The woman held out the pennies expectantly.

"Yes, Mamma." The girl took them and clasped them in her hands tightly, as if afraid to drop them. Then, she scurried past the adults, casting a wondering look at Cadash (quite possibly the first dwarf the young thing had ever laid eyes on) before heading up the road. Everyone watched her go until she was a speck in the distance. Then, hell broke loose.

The first blow seemed to reverberate off the hills, catching him off guard. He had been prepared for it after identifying himself, but forgot to brace himself after watching Maddy. Even still, he was a big man, and though she was strong from working fields, all the force in the world couldn't get her to knock him down. As it was, he staggered back a bit in surprise. What came next hurt much worse.

"What kind of bastard are you, showing up here after all these years? Showing up in front of me at all? Do you have a death wish you Marcher pig?!" She shoved him back, and though it didn't knock him off balance at all, he took it as a cue and got down on his knees submissively. This gave her much easier access to his face, where she proceeded to rain blow after blow. "Come to see the results of your treachery? Isn't it satisfying, you twisted son of a bitch? You took my David away from me! He never got to see his little girl! Fuck, he was so excited when he found out I was pregnant!" Tears were streaming now, flowing as well as the blood from his nose. "And what happens to the wife of a man who committed treason? Cast out of the city, my wealth and livelihood taken from me…having to raise our child while shielding her from the poisonous words of our neighbors, treated no better than slaves!"

"I came to try and help!" he gasped, still refusing to block any of the blows with his hands. By now his left eye was blackened and swelling shut.

"Don't insult me! How could you ever help? That won't bring him back! That won't change these last 10 years of hell!" she fairly screamed, opting to switch from hitting him to shaking him violently. "You ruined my life and stole Maddy's future! And you want to 'help'?!"

"We'll find you a better job! David is no longer viewed as a traitor now that I've turned myself in! And your girl, Maddy, she should be in school… If finances are the problem, I'll help!" he pleaded, fighting back his own tears. He thought he'd considered every angle of his sins, but Madame Favreau seemed to find new ones to rip him apart.

"You…turned yourself in?" She paused to stare at him critically. The man's face was now covered in blood and bruises, and it was hard to gage his expressions through the swelling. He dared to hope as she studied him that she would finally listen, that her wrath was spent. Then she spat in his face. "Not likely. Bet they finally found where you were hiding, you cowardly dog!" With a shove, she sent him sprawling on his back. "Men like you don't change. You haven't got hearts, so how could they change?" Now she was delivering sharp kicks to his side. Without the armor, he could feel even his ribs bruise. Still, he refused to curl up and try to protect himself, but rather laid flat out and took it all.

"Please…" he cried, hardly able to form words as the blows took the breath from his lungs. "I'm sorry. So sorry…" He agreed with everything the woman had said until the last part. He had to have a heart. If he didn't, why was he hurting so much on the inside?

"Sorry? Hah, probably only sorry you lost your money and power. But tell you what, I can make you even sorrier…" Then, there was a swift kick to the groin that nearly made him pass out. Floating there somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, he heard a loud voice, a different voice than the one berating him.

"That's ENOUGH!"

His eyes fluttered open, and from his vantage point with his head drooping to the side, all he could see was another set of boots. What he couldn't see was Malika grabbing the woman around the waist and hauling her backwards away from the down-and-out ex-captain. "What the hell do you think you are doing?" Madame Favreau shrilled. "You dare defend that piece of filth?!"

"You've done quite enough to him. He came all the way here to apologize to you personally and make amends for what he did, and you haven't even let him get a word in! I understand being furious and I understand smacking him around a bit, but this is going too far!"

"Just who do you think you are, bitch?" the woman snarled, trying to rip the dwarf's hands from her waist.

"The Maker-damned Inquisitor!" Malika sneered, releasing her hold and removing the glove she kept on her glowing hand to conceal it. This only slightly gave her adversary pause.

"So YOU'RE the one who saved him from the gallows in the first place!"

"And I'm ALSO the one responsible for him carrying out his sentence, which involves this very visit!"

"Him showing up and 'helping' is supposed to be better punishment than wringing his sorry neck?"

"Wringing his neck is going to bring your husband back?"

"Well THIS sure isn't!"

"He's not the same man he used to be, but you won't give him a chance to show it!" Whatever calm, collected interference she had intended was evaporating as her blood boiled. It had become no better than a squabble and she realized it even as she continued it.

He had all he could take. Now she was involved. Now she was lowering herself to defend him. Strong or not, he had to leave. With all the power he could muster, he dragged himself up to his knees, then shakily to his feet. Every movement made his body scream with pain, but the adrenaline was winning out. "I'll finish this…later…" he managed as he staggered to his horse. Clumsy fingers undid the knots as the woman continued screaming obscenities at him, Malika again holding her back. With a final burst of mind-numbing pain, he fought against his body's limits and climbed onto the saddle. With a weak nudge to the side of the beast, he sent it galloping away from Halamshiral. Away from Madame Favreau. Away from the woman he loved who had watched him be completely and utterly broken. There was no longer any reason to hold in the sobs. He had no idea where the horse was taking him, and at that point he didn't care. Anywhere but there.


	20. With Words Spoken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally cheated and was writing this chapter before the last one due to my putting it off :P How do you pick him back up after such a horrendous experience? There are things you need to say, you can't get by with just implying them. That's all, really.

Water. He had to get to water so he could wash up. And he sure as hell wasn't going back to camp in his current condition, even if Dorian could ease the pain with his healing spells. They couldn't see him like this. Halfway down the road he urged the horse to the left off the path where he saw the glimmer of a stream reflect sunlight about half a mile away. Once there, he weakly slid off his mount, not even bothering to tie him to anything. His unsteady legs gave way and he collapsed to his hands and knees, crawling to the water's edge.

The reflection that greeted him made a fresh round of tears spring up. Finally, he looked on the outside like the monster he was on the inside. His features were distorted with swelling, eyes barely able to open. That was probably what made him seem the least human, he thought bitterly. Blood from his nose and lip ran down his face and dried into his beard, adding to the wild appearance. Gingerly he touched the bridge of his nose. It was very sensitive, but it seemed that even in her rage she was not controlled enough to break it. He wasn't so sure about his ribs. Assessing the situation, he tentatively felt along his right side where most of the kicks had been delivered. He cursed as a sharp wave of pain hit him, though he noted the small woman hadn't been able to break anything there either despite her best efforts.

So now what? Malika would find him soon, no doubt, once she finished saying her piece to Madame Favreau. That made him cringe just as much as his wounds. Not one thing the woman had given him had been undeserved. He vaguely wondered how much longer she would have pummeled him if Malika had let her continue. Could her wrath ever be spent? Would he have ever been able to explain his feelings, or would she just as soon kill him before listening? Not that his words had ever been worth listening to…

With a shaky hand, he reached into the stream and cupped a handful of water to begin washing the blood from his face. He wasn't sure what else he could do anymore.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

He hadn't been too hard to find. It was difficult to say whether that was because he wanted to be found or that he simply didn't have the energy to do a better job hiding. She knew he wouldn't be at camp, so he'd have to go off the road somewhere. And he'd want to wash himself up, so he'd be by water. A mile or so down the road, that was where she spotted him and his grazing horse.

It had been at least an hour since he took off. She had had to restrain Madame Favreau until he was out of sight, then try to talk her down. Unlike Thom, she had caught the blows before they struck her; she was having none of that when she was trying to help. It took a while, but eventually even the enraged woman wore herself out, and she was forced to listen to Malika's explanation of events. She closed by saying they would be searching for a better job for her and finances would arrive to send Maddy to school, echoing Thom's wishes as he had lain there bleeding. But she couldn't even make a dignified exit; she remembered Thom had cast off his armor before starting this whole ordeal, and she struggled to load it onto her horse. "He took it off so you could hit him properly," she had informed the woman pointedly as she stared. "His decision, not mine, so give him some credit for it, huh?" This being done, she mounted and spurred the horse onward with haste. He needed her more than ever.

Currently, he was sprawled out face up on the grass, eyes closed. Her heart skipped a beat with the sudden fear that something had happened to him, and she pushed the horse faster until she was at his side, practically jumping off in her haste. "Thom? Are you awake?" She'd ask if he was okay, but that would be a stupid question, all things considered.

His response was a low grunt and a turn of his head so he was facing away. It didn't matter; she'd already gotten a good look at him, and if he didn't have that beard, she might not recognize him in his current condition. It was truly amazing what a furious woman could do to even a seasoned warrior… At least he'd managed to get most of the blood off.

Satisfied that he was still breathing at least, she hurriedly reached for her supplies still loaded on the horse. Rummaging through her pack, she came up with a healing potion. She grabbed it and kneeled beside him, gently massaging his shoulder. "Can you sit up a little? I have a potion here to help you…"

"No," was his simple response, refusing to move a muscle.

"Does it hurt too much to move?" Now she was getting worried again. "Perhaps I need to fetch Dorian so he can…"

"Just leave me be!" His voice was more of a snarl now, exposing his frustration. "I will suffer this as I deserve."

His words seemed to echo inside of her. So it was as she feared: he was back to punishing himself. After that painful exchange with Madame Favreau, all the guilt and pain he had begun to shed at last was quickly returning, seemingly erasing the progress of the past few days. She had caused a wound to reopen by pushing him before it was completely healed, and in that moment there was nothing but regret. And why had she felt so compelled to spring this on him so soon?

The truth was, it was her own weakness that did this to him. She scheduled this visit so soon because she wished to test him, to prove his intentions were true, and she had been impatient to find out the results. Despite the heartfelt way he had shown his affections, she had needed more, been skeptical. She wanted to know what he would do before she fell even further in love with him. And perhaps also it was to put on the appearance of control for the Inquisition's critics who muttered disapproval over her decision behind her back. She never let it seem that they bothered her, but deep down she didn't want to be seen as someone above the law, so she needed a way to quickly prove she was serious about punishing him. Of course, to be honest, she had truly believed it would help both parties involved move forward when she had assigned this particular punishment, but all it ended up doing was rile up a woman who had buried it in the past and shake up a man who had just regained his composure. She wanted to cry as she looked at his defeated, battered form. "Thom…"

He didn't raise his head, but she could see him wince slightly at the sound of that name as if it burned. She fought back tears as she carefully lay down on her stomach next to him and rested her head on his shoulder, one of the few places she figured it wouldn't hurt. "Thom, I'm so sorry…" she whispered. "I don't know what I expected, but it sure wasn't this. I never wanted this to happen, you have to believe that." She buried her face into his neck, searching for any kind of response. It took a long time to come. After sitting there for several moments, she could feel him heave a sigh.

"Don't feel sorry, My Lady," he finally rasped under his breath, though without ever turning to look at her. "This is how it has to be. You know it."

"I thought it was the right thing for you to do, but I'm not so sure anymore. Not if everyone reacts like that. I know physically you'll shrug it off; you are the strongest man I know. But what she said to you…how can I fix that? Tell me, and I'll do it, Thom." She spoke urgently, and he was surprised when he felt a hot tear land on his neck. "I just want to make this better, like it was before today."

Finally, he turned his head to look at her, causing her to sit back. On second thought, perhaps she didn't want him to look at her; it only served to make her feel worse about things as his injuries literally stared her in the face. And what little of his eyes could be seen were red from crying. It was not a good look for him. "You…Maker, Malika, you shouldn't have to do anything. The sins are mine, and mine alone to bear," he growled, gritting his teeth. "You've gone out of your way time and time again for me, so how can I say I love you when I put you through all that? You deserve so much better…"

She stared him in the eye for a long second, knowing that the demons were surfacing again, the ones he'd probably carry with him to the grave. What could silence them? Malika scooted so she was face to face with him then gently pressed her lips to his. He grunted in surprise but felt too weak to fight it, so all he could do was close his eyes and lose himself.

The kiss didn't last long, but the message was sent. She leaned back and tenderly stroked a stray strand of hair from his face. "I love you. In case you didn't know. I don't think I've ever come out and said it. That's why I have gone out of my way for you, and that's why I will continue going out of my way for you, whether you like it or not."

Even after seeing the damage his deceptions and cowardice had caused… She finally said those precious words to him now of all times? When he was at his lowest? But it was true; Malika Cadash may withhold information, but once her words were uttered, they were the truth. The miraculous declaration made his heart feel ready to explode from his chest. "And I love you," he blurted, pulling her head against his chest with an almost wild desperation. "I couldn't say it before, because it felt wrong to admit when I was deceiving you. And somehow it seemed to be enough to show you by bedding you, kissing and worshipping every inch of your body like you should understand my feelings somehow. Now all I have are empty words, but I have to say them anyhow. You have to hear it from my mouth. You deserve that much from me."

"I believe you love me. I always have," she responded, looking up into his surprised face. She noticed the drops of moisture forming in his eyes as he struggled internally. "I felt a lot of hurt and betrayal when things went wrong, but I never doubted that. The problem now is that you can't accept my love in return…" A shadow crossed her face. "How can I love you back if you don't let me?"

"The problem is that I rely on you for everything. If I didn't have you picking me up and dusting me off every time the darkness seems to swallow me whole…I'd be nothing." He ducked his chin, defeated. "You deserve a man who doesn't need to be taken care of like a child."

Her hand quickly moved to his cheek, careful to avoid putting pressure on the bruises. "You think it is so bad to need help when you are trapped in the darkness? People rarely can do that for themselves. That's why we have friends, family, people we love. I would still be in the dark if I hadn't been pulled into the Inquisition, made friends, met you." She bit her lip. "Some days I think the pressures I ended up with are going to swallow me too. But I think about the time I'll have with you, and somehow I can endure it. And all the pain of the past doesn't seem to matter anymore. I can't get through it on my own any better than you can. That is why we have each other. Don't you see?" She hung her head. "How can I make you see…?"

Suddenly, she felt a rough hand lift her chin to look into his eyes. They shimmered with unshed tears straining to escape. "So…I have something to offer you, something that could possible counter all that I seem to demand from you?"

"You already have given me so much," she whispered, leaning upward to capture his lips again. This kiss went deeper, right to the soul. It was hard not get carried away and cause him pain from hitting a tender area, so she tried to focus on kneading his shoulders. On his end, all he could manage was to hold her around her waist. He couldn't help but grumble in frustration at his inability to give more in this important moment. He started to pry further with his kiss, but she suddenly pulled away, wiping her lips and finding to her surprise a small amount of blood.

"Ugh, Thom, I am so sorry! I think I made your lip start bleeding again…" she apologized profusely, looking a bit embarrassed.

"I'd hardly call that a problem," he dismissed with a small smile, licking along his bottom lip and noting the metallic tang.

Malika nodded, returning the smile. "I swear to the Maker, if you weren't so beat up, I'd break all my promises to Josie and have you take me right here right now."

His eyebrows shot up. "Promises to Josie? Meaning…"

"She may have overheard a few things and was a bit concerned, but it's all good."

"Maker's balls..." He turned bright red, earning a giggle.

"Have I ever told you how much I love it when you curse like that?"

"No. I'll have to keep that in mind. Especially when I do get the chance to 'take you'."

She gave an annoyed scowl. "Maybe we can sneak away while we're in Emprise du Lion, once you're better of course." Her hand ghosted along his chest, but he stopped it with his own hand, clasping it firmly.

"I want to do it right, Malika. A quick tumble while out at camp, thinking in the back of our minds about someone finding us… You deserve better. I will not give you less than the best when I have a second chance. Let's wait until we get back to Skyhold, and then we'll be able to take our time, really have it mean something."

She pouted, but nodded in agreement. "You are the voice of reason."

He chuckled, but quickly stopped when his ribs cried out in pain. "Besides, there's still a conversation I want to have before then. But that is for another time. It's been a long day."

"Yeah…" she trailed off, studying the setting sun. "I suppose the boys back in camp are wondering where we are."

"Think they actually made dinner?"

"Probably. Not like they've had much else to do." She rose to her knees, then noted the bottle still lying a foot away. She took it, then gave him a pleading look while holding it out. He gave an exasperated sigh.

"Fine, woman, hand it here. I guess I can't very well make myself useful in this condition, now can I?"


	21. At a Crossroads

Their tasks had taken them their separate ways upon returning to Skyhold, but all day her mind wandered to the upcoming evening. Was he feeling the same way? Would he require an invitation or would he invite himself? He wouldn't back out, would he? She had been unable to forget the entire duration of their trip, having to settle for stolen kisses or cuddles, but ultimately sleeping alone. Just like things used to be before that fateful night… she frowned. In hindsight, it was easy to see why he had avoided anything more than small signs of affection. But now…everything was different. They were different. If she'd wanted to make love with him before, it was now a burning desire that threatened her sanity, only fueled by the lack of ability to do so.

Once she was finally free from her duties, she hurried to her quarters, fairly flying up the steps. What would she find? An empty room? A naked man sprawled on her bed? The answer proved to be halfway between the two. He was indeed there waiting on her bed, though certainly still clothed. He was wearing a simple tunic and trousers, his armor long abandoned. He was barefoot, his socks and shoes discarded by the fireplace where he had already seen to stoking the fire, and she could tell his hair was still damp. "You've already washed up," she blurted, a pleased grin widening on her face. She could feel her cheeks already heating up as she realized what he had been contemplating. "I'm glad I'm not the only one who is eager this evening."

He gave an amused smile. "Believe me, my lady, it was hard to wait all that time. Just because it was my idea to hold off while in the fields didn't mean I was happy about it. And I wanted to be cleaned up and presentable for you. But I will wait a bit longer while you wash up from the road."

She growled. "Do I have to?"

His response was a full-out chuckle. "So impatient! Yes, you should. It would be a shame if you got me all dirty after that thorough scrubbing. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." At that last remark, he suddenly sobered. "I'm not going anywhere…"

"I know you won't." She moved over to where he was sitting and reassured him with a quick peck on the cheek. His whiskers were soft and smooth against her lips; he had really put a great deal of effort into his preparations… As she pulled back, she could see the adoration shine in his blue eyes. "All right then, I'll be fast."

And fast she was, rushing to the washroom and hurriedly undressing, tossing her clothes in a heap on the floor. Rag in hand, she rubbed at the grime which inevitably accompanied a mission, all the while imagining his hands caressing those same places. Why hadn't she made him do this? Ah, perhaps another night. Hastily she dumped water over herself to rinse. Good enough, right? No, he'd put a lot of time into getting ready; she had to try a bit harder. She reached for her nearly unused bottle of lavender lotion and began to apply it all over her body. Normally it too frivolous and she wasn't keen on walking around smelling like a garden, but this was entirely different. Satisfied that he'd enjoy burying his face against her skin now that it was soft and sweet-smelling, she combed her fingers through her short hair and donned a loose bathrobe. That wouldn't stay on long.

When she emerged, she found he was now shirtless, sitting on the edge of her bed fidgeting with his hands. The look he cast her when their eyes met made a knot form in her stomach. She knew right away how he wanted it, and she would gladly do it for him tonight. Quietly but intensely she padded over to sit beside him. "You want me to lead?"

"I…yes. Unless that's not what you want. I just…" So different from last time, when he was pushing and guiding her through the process, burning with his need. This need was different, more subdued but no less urgent. This time, he was a man starving for love after years of self-denial whereas last time he was a man desperate to prove his feelings. She just hoped he would be true to his promise and take what she would offer. In fact, that was probably something to get clear right away lest they interrupt their amorous actions with a debate of his merits.

"It's fine. I understand what you need." She reached over and laced her fingers with his on the bed. "But there's still something I have to hear from you, Thom. I now know who you are and what you have done, but I offer my unconditional love all the same. Will you accept it without continuing to question it?"

The breath seemed trapped in his lungs. Such a divine offer, one he'd never imagine possible! It was a hard proposition to be sure, considering how long it had been since he'd let anyone care for him, much less love him unconditionally. And it reminded him of a question that had been nagging him since the day they'd come out and confessed their love openly.

"Before I answer that, there's something I've been wanting to ask you." He inhaled shakily, nerves suddenly getting to him. Whatever he was about to ask was no small thing, she could tell. "You…you've been abused and mistreated all your life." The mere thought of this caused his features to darken, and she looked down.

"I never thought of it like that, but you're probably right," she admitted quietly, only to be wrapped in a tight hug, face pressed against his hard, hairy chest. He smelled of lye from the soap, yet it was still tinged with hay, perhaps from storing all his clothes out in the barn. It occurred to her that this smell was calming, safe. It smelled like home, though she couldn't say why; it wasn't as if she'd ever really had a home. She snuggled in closer, melting into his powerful arms.

This seemed to rattle him. "And when you finally have a choice of who you want to make love with, you pick me. Me!" Rainier shook his head in utter disbelief. "How can that be? You deserve better than a man who has hurt you as much as I have. But I love you so much I can't hardly bear it…" he trailed off, pulling her away so she could see his ashamed face.

It seemed it was time for a final confrontation with that demon. Despite her successes before, Malika had known deep down that it wasn't vanquished yet. Until he admitted he could be loved, it still had the upper hand, and this was the crossroads. He would undoubtedly live with it for the rest of his life; it was a punishment he had to bear, and one she could only soothe and ease to the background. But if she told him what he needed to hear in this moment, those things he still didn't understand, that might be enough to subdue it from there on out.

At that, she smiled gently and lightly skimmed a hand up his naked chest, nudging him so he was lying on his back. He quickly swung his legs up onto the bed as well so she could straddle his hips. "I made you tell me why you loved me. The whole story. But I never gave you my account, did I? The story of how Malika Cadash fell in love for the first time in her life. No wonder you can't understand my actions," she spoke in a tender voice, caressing his face. It was difficult for him to look her in the eye, she could tell, but he finally did, eyes searching for answers to the questions that plagued him.  
"You know, the first time I met you, I thought you were going to be some up-tight do-gooder warrior. I think I tried to be sassy and you just shut me down. I felt a bit put off," she laughed. "But you weren't really like that at all. I know you hid a lot, but as if to make up for it, you revealed a lot about your thoughts, the things that mattered at the moment rather than the things of the past. You'd complain about the nobles with me, we'd mock them behind their backs out of earshot from the other leaders. We'd appreciate practicality, a good joke, a beautiful piece of nature. And we'd help people. I never had to worry about you judging my actions like I did with others. Help a mage and someone gets mad. Help a Templar, someone else gets mad. Help someone who didn't deserve anything and even more people would get mad. But as long as I was helping, you stood by me in all of my decisions regardless of people's affiliations. I told you before I would have fallen for you even if you didn't call yourself a Warden, and that's because I knew you as a good man, a man I could trust with anything.

"I think almost dying at Haven put it into perspective for me. I was naturally avoiding a relationship, because, you know, bad experiences and all that. But losing all those people…I realized just how scared I was to lose you, more than what was normal. And suddenly, watching from a distance as you helped our people make it to Skyhold, giving yourself in whatever way possible to ease their suffering, I would feel hot, my stomach would turn in knots. You were a hero, someone I could never hope to be but wished for all the same. I hated myself for being so impractical, but I couldn't stop it. When I let my feelings for you come to light on the battlement and you turned me down, I knew you were probably right. But I was selfish, the way you tell me you were selfish. We both wanted to do the right thing, but we both wanted each other. I think I actually felt a bit better knowing you were struggling with the same thing I was.

"My heart almost stopped when I saw you standing on my balcony that night. You said you wanted to end it, but it was so obvious you felt compelled to end it though you wanted to be with me. Why would you be there in the moonlight if that weren't true? And seeing you there, I knew I couldn't do what you asked. You were the best thing I had ever had in my life. So I swallowed my pride and did what my heart told me to: I kissed you. And finally you kissed me back. It was the best moment of my life to that point.

"We danced in Halamshiral, when you were the one bit of normalcy in that crazy sea of masked faces. We fought through the fade and all of our nightmares side by side, and you were the one I leaned on to debrief the whole trying experience. I could trust you with everything, you would be up front with me. That's why it hurt so much to find out you really WEREN'T." She finally paused, drawing a deep breath. "I always thought you were trying to protect me from the hurt of you being a Grey Warden. That night in the stables, I tried to talk you out of that kind of thought only to throw myself at you. I was desperate and you were holding back, always holding back… I was so excited to finally break your resistance, and it was everything I had hoped it would be. I thought my heart would overflow, if I am allowed to be overly melodramatic about it. I wanted to have this for the rest of my life, you and me, together through everything, your love being the support that I needed to stay sane during this whole Inquisitor mess. Then you left. I wanted to die. Being with you was like breathing, I needed it to survive."

He closed his eyes and a tear escaped. She wiped it from his cheek. "And then I found out everything. I was so furious at first. I suppose I would have to be if I loved you as I professed. I felt scared, weak, like I had finally opened up only to make a huge mistake in judgement. I would be the laughingstock of Thedas. And thinking of how I had begged you to bed me…I was mad at myself. You were trying to keep me from making that mistake and I wasn't helping. But I saw how hurt you felt, the absolute pain in your face when I finally confessed to my own history…you were hurting as much as I was, how could I stay angry? And I thought maybe if I hadn't kept things from you about myself, you wouldn't have kept all those things from me. It wasn't going to be all right just like that, but I knew I had to at least give you a chance to fix things. I had to know if your love for me was one of the things you had been honest about. So I let you go free. I justified it every which way in the courtroom, but if I'm honest I just had to know what you would do next."

She broke out in a hollow chuckle. "We are both just so fucked up. Neither of us handled the relationship right. But I have yet to regret my decision to give you another chance. You've done EVERYTHING I've asked of you without a second thought. You are trying so hard to make any amends possible for your crimes. And still you don't see that you are a GOOD man." She placed a heavy emphasis on 'good' and pressed her glowing hand against his heart. "You made a lot of mistakes in the last year, but I know you never wanted any of this pain to be caused. And the more I dig into it, the more I see that the down-to-earth, noble man I fell for was always the truth, not an act as I feared. And now…" she paused, caressing his bearded cheek, "I believe the dream I had of us being happy together can still come true if you only accept it. I love you, Thom, the good and the bad." To drive that point home, she moved in to kiss his mouth, wrapping her arms around his head.

As strange as it was to think about with his woman kissing him in a fervor, Varric's words from their prison chat flooded his memories: Can you forgive yourself? It's the first thing she'll want. He pulled away, leaving her fearful. Maker, she thought he was going to refuse her love, that it was over after everything… His voice was rough, raw. "I'll try. It's not easy, but I'll try to forgive myself for you. You deserve no less from the person you give your heart to."

"Thom…" she breathed, eyes watering.

"I want to make you happy, but I suppose that will mean allowing myself some happiness." He closed his eyes. "I swear to the Maker, the Stone, Andraste, the whole damn elven pantheon, and whoever else anyone worships, you won't regret this. You won't regret us." Suddenly taking over, he grabbed her head, threading his fingers through her hair and brought her back to his mouth where he commenced to make out with her, turning the tables and pulling himself on top of her. Just like before, he was pressing her into the mattress with the fervor of his actions. She was stunned by the sudden burst of passion but did not protest as he ravaged her mouth with his tongue as his hands mirrored the motion across her temples. All she could do was helplessly grasp his muscular arms and yield to his desires, squirming. Soon he was grasping her hair in his fists and tugging gently while sucking hard at her lips, the spark lighting to a fire. Her breath had quickly gone shaky, and she panted with want.

"Is this all right, Malika?" he finally asked in a rumbling voice before moving his mouth to her exposed neck and nipping lightly. "I'm not crossing any lines, am I?"

"Maker, yes!" she whispered intensely, finally able to grasp his hair as he had done to her. "Wait. No. I mean…ugh don't you dare stop!" With a grunt of acknowledgement, he moved on from her neck to her collarbone, then further down. She lost her grip on him as he moved, curse her short dwarven arms, and had to be content to grab at the sheets while his tongue claimed everything in its path. The feel of his shorter beard on her skin made her flush everywhere…

He began to massage her. "So damn beautiful, Malika…" he hissed. "And you are mine! Maker…" The statement in that tone alone was enough to make her gasp.

"Please, Thom…" she begged feverishly, in no control of her own desire. "Don't keep teasing me, I want you back inside of me…" Her entire body trembled with need. Abandoning his current objectives, he complied with her wishes, soon setting a reckless pace that spoke of the frantic need pent within him. She didn't mind at all, and moved in response. As they drew towards the edge, she could suddenly feel first one tear, than another, falling against her burning skin. She forced her eyes open long enough to notice that he was crying, but these tears were different. They were tears of joy, relief. Somewhere in the haze, she felt a wave of awe sweep over her.

"I love you Malika Cadash!" he groaned fiercely, pulling her tight to his body. "Come for me!"

"Thom!" she cried in a shrill voice as she obeyed. This time, he was able to enjoy every bit of it, and her release sent him to his own as the sound of his name on her lips triggered it. This was right, this was how it should be.

They stayed that way, holding tightly to one another desperately until their breathing calmed and their pulses came back down. Satisfied that there was nothing more to give, he withdrew and moved to lay at her side, pulling her back up to the pillows. He needed no invitation this time, drawing her into his arms and holding her to his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. "My lady, was that all right?" he asked quietly, rubbing her back and planting a soft kiss on her cheek.

She pulled back to look into his eyes. "It was perfect. But please, I don't care what anyone says, stay with me tonight. I don't want you to go…"

"No. I won't leave. If you'll have me, I'll spend every night at your side," he murmured resolutely. With another tender kiss to her lips, he sat up and pulled the covers over them. Instead of resting her head on the pillow, she rested it on his chest and snuggled in.

"Thank you. I didn't realize how much I needed this," she sighed, closing her eyes. She was completely spent.

"Me neither," he agreed, wrapping a protective arm around his woman. "Me neither," he repeated, admiring her in the dim light of the dying fire. His thumb traced the smile of her lips. "It WAS perfect. Making love to you always is." He paused. "Well, all two times that we've done it…"

"It wasn't better this time?" she asked, frowning.

"No, it was. Not having that sick feeling of guilt in the pit of your stomach really does make things more enjoyable," he admitted, scratching his head.

"So would you say we've settled things between us now?" She was pretty sure she knew the answer, but hearing it didn't hurt.

He thought carefully, and for the first time in his entire life, he knew without a doubt what he had with another person was the truth. "I do."


	22. Epilogue: Destination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, the final piece. I didn't want to do an epilogue based in Trespasser content, because then it would be next to impossible to give this thing closure... I wanted to give a glimpse of what I thought their future could hold, and make it a bit more meaningful than "frying eggs with that mark".

It was done. Corypheus was defeated, and the Inquisition had not lost any of its inner circle in the process, though everyone who fought was sporting various injuries. Even with the help of the healers and mages, it would take some time to mend all the wounds.

Immediately after the fact, Malika had been swarmed by followers eager to share in the moment of triumph. He could tell from his place in the background that she didn't enjoy it, but tolerated it for their benefit to some degree. He was worried she would push herself too hard and not heal properly at the rate she was going, but saying anything would sound selfish. It was true he wanted to spend time with her alone, but it wasn't his place to ask for such a thing. The glances she shot him when possible across the room told him she was thinking similar thoughts.

Finally, she insisted on retiring late in the night, and no one could argue with the woman who defeated mankind's greatest threat. He strategically waited for a few minutes before slipping into the hallway leading to her quarters, but once the door was shut, he fairly flew up the stairs, desperate to see her, to hold her, to revel in the fact that she was alive despite the dangers. It didn't matter how much his body ached and burned from the injuries of battle. Without knocking, he threw open the door and found her already dressed for bed, but looking on expectantly. "My lady, I don't mean to interrupt but –"  
Her smile was genuine as it stretched across her normally serious face. "Thom!" She stood and ran to his open arms, hugging tightly around his waist as if to keep him from ever leaving. She buried her face against his stomach. "Thom…" she repeated, softer this time. He could feel her tremble, and hear her begin to sniffle. Had he not had his armor still on, he would have also noticed the moisture from her eyes dampening his clothes. "We made it. We both made it. I'm so happy…"

Shit, she was going to make him lose it too! He pressed her even closer. "It's been a long time since I've been a praying man, but I prayed harder than ever that we'd still be left standing. I don't even know to who! After everything, I just couldn't think about losing what we finally found." She could hear the emotion in his admission and feel it in the way his fingers squeezed her shoulders. "Malika, I'm so glad you are safe. I haven't been able to stop worrying since the battle was announced. I know I said I wouldn't let you die, but…I knew deep down there were things I couldn't control even if I gave everything. I…I've never been so scared in my life."

She pulled back to look into his watering eyes, and he gave a shaky smile. Suddenly, she wasn't tired anymore, and no ache in her body was going to stop her. "Thom, I want you. Now. If you are up for it. I just…I need you."

"As you wish, my Lady," he whispered in a low, rough voice, his hands running along her flushed cheeks. "I feel the same even if I'll regret it in the morning." With that, he bent down and scooped her up so he could carry her to the bed, stiff back be damned.

They had made love slowly before, enjoying and ravishing each part of their partners' body and extending the pleasure. This was not one of those times. The primal need to make sure they were both alive after every danger had come to pass urged them on as they ripped off clothes. So they held on tightly, fearing in the backs of their minds that the other might disappear as an illusion, and they forwent any tender words of love for simple, desperate cries of the other's name while they joined. After both found their release in the other, they barely managed to keep their eyes open long enough to pull the covers over themselves before passing out from sheer exhaustion.

The sun was high in the sky when he woke. Thank the Maker, he thought groggily, the administration knew to leave her alone to get some sleep after everything! He turned to look at the still sleeping Inquisitor beside him. Her body was turned so it faced him, and he could see the covers slightly rise and fall with her gentle breaths. A warm smile crossed his face, and it took every ounce of restraint for him not to reach out and touch her affectionately. His saving grace, so perfect for him that their paths crossing could not have been mere chance. Not perfect, not the statue of Andraste in the chapel shining in holy light, but a flesh-and-blood woman who knew pain and disgrace, fear and guilt. And because she knew all of those things, she was able to heal is own. She was his, and he could wake up every morning admiring her like this for the rest of their lives.

At that, he was overwhelmed by the need to reach out to her, even if it did wake her. Slowly she roused herself from her slumber as she felt a warm, calloused hand run through her hair. She groaned and opened a bleary eye. "Thom…?"

"Yes, love?"

"…I don't know." She gave a mighty yawn and rolled onto her back. Slowly, she came to. "It's late, isn't it?"

"Maybe. But I think you deserve a good sleep, all things considered."

"Yeah. It's nice." Malika paused. "How are you holding up this morning? Need another appointment with the healers?"

To be honest, he was pretty sore, between the battle and other things… Not that he'd admit that. "Probably. And you?"

"Fair," she stated simply, also sore and unwilling to admit to it. They fell into a comfortable silence, his hand finding hers under the covers.

"So, now what, my lady?" he finally asked. "Corypheus is dead. We are all alive. He was all we could focus on for so long, the thing that gave us purpose when neither you nor I had one. Where do we go from here?"

"Well, as much as I would love to, I doubt I can just take off and leave this massive army to figure out what to do with itself. Maybe in a year or two we can figure out how to disband. Finish sealing any stray rifts, that sort of thing."

"And what would you do once you quit?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. I don't really have a home to go back to. But I figure as long as I'm with you, that's all I really need."

Her words warmed his heart. He tilted her head to look into his gray eyes. "Would you ever consider…getting married?"

"Yes." Her answer was much quicker than he expected, though it was followed by hesitation. "Would you?"

"Yes. Without a doubt in my mind. If you would have me for the rest of our lives, may as well let the world know you are spoken for. And I imagine our friends would be most disappointed if there wasn't some kind of huge ordeal to celebrate that commitment." He chuckled, imagining the tantrum Sera would throw at missing a chance to cut loose. Then, he sobered again. "And after that, after we get married, would you want a family?"

This gave her more to contemplate, and she was silent for a while. Thom was starting to think she had fallen asleep again until she finally responded. "It's weird to think about. I mean, not the thought of having kids with you; that makes total sense. Just me with kids in general. I never really had a family. And I sure as hell don't have many maternal instincts. Ugh, I'd probably ruin those poor children…" She hid her face in her hands and growled. "But… thinking about sharing that with you…it seems like something I would definitely want, even if it does scare me now. I mean, I somehow pulled off being the Inquisitor, and if you'd have told me I would do that I'd have told you you were drunk of your ass. That is, of course, provided you wanted that too. The kids, I mean. Do you?"

Good question. Was that what he wanted? Being a father seemed like such a daunting task, especially with a life as messed up as his had been. How could he possibly raise a child when he could barely take care of himself for so long? But as she said, the thought of sharing that with her, the woman he loved… Like so many things, she gave him the strength to imagine the future, and he had no doubts they would figure out how to raise children together. "I would, yes."

"Then I have a lot to look forward to," she sighed happily, snuggling against his chest. "That time cannot come soon enough."

But there was one thing more, one obligation he had to see through before these dreams could come to pass. There were still amends to be made and forgiveness to beg, and until he took care of that, he could not ask for her hand with a clean conscience. "Malika, while you are here sorting out business, there are things I need to do before I can marry you properly. Things I promised the world and things I promised you. I'm sure you already know what I'm talking about."

She nodded, the smile wavering. "Yes, I know. It will undoubtedly take you far away from me."

"But not for too long. I'd come back and see you between trips. Maker, going without you for longer than that might kill me!" The thought alone seemed to pain him.

She hugged him tightly. "When do you think you'll leave?"

He heaved a sigh. "I think maybe a week or so, enough time to get my names and places straight and see if I'm needed here for any cleanup business. The sooner I start, the sooner I can marry you, so I don't want to wait too long."

"You're right. But ugh, I wish I could go with you…"

He bent down and kissed her softly on the forehead. "So do I.."

"I miss you already and you haven't left yet…" Malika continued to grumble, reaching for his face and pulling him lower into a proper kiss. Unlike the previous night, this kiss was languid, profound. Every movement was calculated. When they finally broke apart, she looked up at him with a small smile. "Think they'll notice if I'm gone for at least another hour?"

"I'm pretty sure I locked the door…"

"And if they start knocking, I'll tell them to take a hike," she concluded, pulling herself on top of his body. As his strong hands massaged her back, encouraging her body to melt against his, she thought to herself how amazing it was to have this. To have him. He loved her in ways she never imagined possible, never imagined she deserved. To him she was a most precious treasure and he'd face any obstacle for her. He had to be her reward for putting up with being Inquisitor, even though their relationship had been full of twists and turns. It was worth it, Malika decided as he began kissing down her body, sending shivers down her spine. That path may have been extremely difficult, but if it led her to this moment, it was all worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to provide some more for this ship and hopefully take it places I hadn't seen from other authors. I had started working on a companion piece between this and the events of trespasser but never got past like four chapters, so we'll see if I can ever get motivated to pick it back up! In the mean time, I'm working on 100 one-word prompts about Malika if getting to know the dwarven Inquisitor interests you (SHAMELESS plug, clearly). Most importantly, of course, thanks for reading! :)

**Author's Note:**

> So, funny thing about that note. Even after playing a second time I STILL did not understand who it was referring to. Finally figured it out though, so will Malika. Much later.


End file.
